Camus isn't asking us to find silver linings in futility—he's suggesting something stranger and more radical: that meaning emerges *from* repetition itself, not despite it. The happiness he describes isn't about pretending the boulder doesn't roll back down, but about accepting the work as sufficient, the way a parent finds genuine joy in the tenth bedtime story rather than viewing it as wasted effort. What separates this from mere resignation is the active choice involved; Sisyphus must consciously reject both despair and false hope. Consider the craftsperson who knows their repair work will eventually break again, yet finds satisfaction in the doing anyway—that's the rebellion Camus celebrates, a happiness built on honest terms rather than illusions about permanence.