I can’t imagine that the creator of the universe — or creators, or Mother Nature, or just accidentally people just magically showing up, or whatever you like/believe, because I don’t care what you believe, just don’t be a jerk — doesn’t have a sense of humor. Look at giraffes for one. And don’t get me started on the platypus. Or the hippopotamus. Or Ghostbusters. (More on that one later.)
That’s why I didn’t break down and cry when, in an effort to kill what I thought was a fly but that actually turned out to be a chunk of ash flying off a candle resulted in me busting a hole in my window screen, ruining my one good pair of glasses by knocking them off my face in that athletic endeavor, and toppling the dinner I just bought from Harris Teeter on to the floor/into Russell Jenkins’ belly (because I couldn’t see and therefore wasn’t fast enough to get it away from him. His one eye was better than my two eyed astigmatism this time.)
Because there’s nothing on TV on Sunday and I expect that the creator of the universe — or creators, or Mother Nature, or accidentally people just magically showing up, or whatever you like/believe, because I don’t care what you believe, just don’t be a jerk–had a good laugh at that spectacle. And I hope we both laughed at the look on Russell Jenkins’ face when he realized what was coming his way and ate it in one gulp. He is lolling on the floor with a belly 2x its usual size, happy and content. The comedy was worth it to give that little heartbeat some unexpected joy today. I’ll order some new glasses tomorrow.