I think it was my college roommate, Eri, who came up with the Flintstone philosophy.

Our friend Rebs and I proved a bit more melancholy than she would have preferred (frankly, we were more melancholy than we would have preferred, too), so instead of advice, she dispensed Flintstone vitamins. If she couldn’t replenish our souls, at least she could keep our vitamin levels up.

At some point, a hierarchy developed. Purple was the best color. Orange, the worst. Dino, the best character. The car — who makes a car a character? — was the worst.

So if you ended up with an orange car vitamin, clearly you were excused for the day from responsibility for poor paper grades, oily peanut butter in the dining hall, and dropping your toothbrush on the floor.

A purple Dino, however? You were guaranteed sunshine, a full mailbox, and glowing comments from your favorite professor.

All the rest of the vitamins were somewhere in between, giving you a run-of-the-mill day.

Luckily, the Flintstone vitamin makers have discontinued the car-shaped vitamin. They clearly agreed that no one deserved to drop their toothbrush on the floor.

I’m not sure if Eri has decided on a new bottom-of-the-barrel vitamin, and I don’t ask, just in case she has. I don’t want to know.

But I keep in mind that purple Dinos will bring me luck, prosperity, and beauty when I happen upon them.

Why am I sharing this today? you ask.

Because today is a purple Dino day. On a Monday no less.

And, somehow, it is, actually. Instead of being cloudy and chilly today, the way the forecasters predicted, it dawned clear and sunny and warm. Our dripping faucet is being replaced today. I remembered to wash the floor, clear the counters, and empty the trash before I left home. I liked the first outfit I put on. The homemade breakfast pudding I didn’t care for warm yesterday is quite good cold with cinnamon today. I’m enjoying the book I’m reading. My iPod battery is still fully charged. There is money in my purse and Sweet Tart hearts in my candy dish.

Sure, some of those things would still have happened if a red Pebbles had fallen into my outstretched hand this morning.

But some of them probably wouldn’t have. And maybe I wouldn’t have been looking for them, allowing them to fade into the pleasant oblivion of the background unnoticed and unappreciated.

So, thanks, purple Dino, for handing me a nice day and making me truly see it.