I Found the Perfect Person to Laugh At

And saved my hand and the wall

I don’t usually talk to myself, but when I do, it’s for a good cause.  I don’t cheer myself on.  I don’t debate ideas or tell myself to act more like an adult (possibly a good idea).  I just chuckle at what is frustrating me, at my clumsiness (getting more common as I age), my forgetfulness (getting more common as I age), and my impulsiveness (not yet old enough to regret). 

I don’t scold, nor do I get angry at myself or others.  I see the humor in what I’m doing or saying.  It’s a very healthy way of living.

Perhaps there is a whole psychological literature on just this point.  I haven’t seen such a self-help book on the shelves, but there are so many that one more would be easy to overlook. 

I fear that the self-help profession is too serious, though, to recommend anything so simple as taking oneself less seriously.  (Seriousness does set you up for laughter however, and that may be its one contribution to a long life—and a good laugh.) 

“Laugh and the world laughs with you”—probably not, but I’m really not listening.  I’m seeing myself in a box on a page with a bubble over my head.  I’m appreciating the fact that I hit golf balls into the water, and turn in pappers wsith spelling errrors.  Always mistypings, of course, (getting more common as I age).

They say the language of God or the gods is laughter.  If we were created, it was not for companionship.  It was for laughter.  We are naturals. It’s the best evidence for intelligent design –offsets the negative fact of the human back.  And I’ve never broken my hand or had to repair a wall.