This holiday season has become extremely rough. For some, such as myself, it is as though karmatically we are prepaying for a fantastic year ahead. Of course, that’s looking on the bright side. It might be that we are just paying the price for the other half of the universe, which seems to be doing just dandy. Strange how that works. Sometimes, I wonder if someone out there isn’t paying the price for me to be happy. Well, for now the roles are flipped. As of late, I have had friends who have rushed husbands or children to the ER, only to encounter unsettling doctors. Some have had car wrecks, or large amounts of money scammed, and some unfortunate few have even had heartaches. And still others carry blissfully along, reminding us that with this holiday season, “there’s no reason to get so upset.” I especially get irate with the latter even if (and I hate to admit it) they have a point.
Besides filing for a claim number, there’s not much I can do about the fact that USPS is currently claiming a fifty dollar package was delivered when it wasn’t. Nor can I help it (beyond yet another complaint) that they failed to leave notices for two other packages which might also be lost, or that the worker at the office for pick-up put me on hold for fifteen minutes before I had to hang up because he was just too “busy to take my call.”
I also can’t help it that despite my high hopes at my last appointment, I still haven’t heard anything in regards to my results (so should I just forget about the problem or what?), or that Vincent has a house key in the hands of someone who I don’t necessarily trust, mainly because she keeps saying she will get her things conveniently when no one is home (and in general I don’t t rust people who have full access to your home and refuse to give it up).
When these disappointments come full force, I have to be appreciative for the one thing that manages to pull me out of my slump. I think of myself as an easy going person, with an appreciation for odd humor. In fact, when I think of Vincent one of the first things that pops into my head is how very much he makes me laugh, and that I am so very grateful for that. Some people have accused us of being mean, or unsympathetic, and countless others have misunderstood our open jokes, which is also something else of an annoyance (you have to cringe when a jealous girl says that you are ‘mean’ ect. for pulling a prank on your partner) with all of the free commentary we receive. Yet at the same time, probably even more so, it makes our exchanges a bit more meaningful to me, as if our whole attitude is one great private joke that we share. On a side note, I can only hope that our baby grows up and can get in on this when she’s the right age.
People are far too overprotective when it comes to laughter, and they read into jokes and sarcasm with a vengeance. I think it started with the whole Politically Correct movement, but extremists pushed that further and further, until jokes lost their freedom entirely, both for the telling and the enjoyment.
“You want to hear a dirty joke?”
“OK.”
“A white horse fell in the mud.”
Oh hah hah. Yet this joke probably sums up the extent of our PC humor. Then again, calling the horse white might be taking it a bit too far.
So the other night, as Vincent and I struggled with a doomed attempt to make our Christmas lights blink, I took my jab.
“It’s not working,” Vincent whined, plugging the string of lights in again to discover that no, switching out the extra bulbs had not worked as it did in the older versions.
“Ugh, just pull it out and plug it back in.” Honestly, I didn’t think he would do it, so when he did, I almost lost it too soon. After returning the plug to the outlet, he sat slumped in his chair, his mouth agape, eyes wide with confusion. I added, “There. Did you see? It blinked.”
Of course, he has been notorious for his assaults on me, such as when, after leaving my facebook open, he sneakily updated my status to read: My cat is so gay. Will someone please come and run him over?
I had my revenge though, as when I discovered he had left his open just recently, I updated his to read: I hate my cat, Draco. Someone come and pick him up or I will have him put down in the morning.
Perfect example of how people overreact - he received ten comments all angry with him, and then me. I think he actually had to take it down. (For those of you who don’t get it, Beowulf is my cat, Draco is Vince’s.)
Still, considering the stress as of late, the mass amounts of laughter we share alleviates quite a bit of tension, and we all know tension is bad for baby.
Speaking of the baby, I have decided I am actually carrying Jesus. You see, thanks to a convenient billboard announcing the date of his return as being May 21, 2011, I am now aware of why my beautiful little baby is so calm all of the time and has given me hardly any problems. My due date is May, 15, 2011… and while this is a few days shy of the 21st, we all know that women rarely carry to the exact date of their due date. So, I’m expecting her (that’s right, Jesus is a girl this time around) on the 21st. Thanks crazy billboard, for taking that stress off of me! I know, I know, I’m not Christian. Though that may be the case, it’s tough carrying Jesus, and someone has to do it. Just so happens that someone is me! (That was a joke, for anyone getting ready to write complaints.)
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