I laughed out loud today.
By myself.
I suppose it's considered an odd thing to do, seeing as laughter is generally shared with others. But sometimes joy gets the better of me and I don't particularly see a need to repress it, resulting in such an outpouring of mirth that it's no wonder some people think I'm crazy.
Or that I enjoy being sick. I don't, but why should that ruin my day? Some things are simply too delightful to be left unlaughed at.
One phenomenon that tends to bring it on is when I drop something on the floor that ought to have shattered only to discover it intact. My floor is ceramic tile, and yet I have these glass plates that will bounce and flop merrily around until coming to rest without so much as a chipped rim. The noise is awful but it's so funny to watch, in fact, I'm sorely tempted to start with a full stack of them one of these days and drop them one at a time just to observe the results.
What's holding me back is I'm not sure my caretaker would find it amusing, since she'd be the one cleaning up the mess.
It's still a thought, though.
I'm grateful for laughter. I consider it a gift, not something I could ever hope to create inside myself, so when it's there it definitely makes the list of things I'm thankful for.
I have my ups and downs like everyone else, even within the same day. I've cried today. I've spent many a moment in subdued pondering, listening to the silence. I know life isn't all roses. But among the thorns the roses *are* there, and as Abraham Lincoln once said:
Complaining is a skill that comes naturally to most of us. I wish my floor wasn't so cold and hard, because it chills my feet and causes pain. I wish I could eat and drink from plastic/paper dishware without becoming ill from it, so that I wouldn't have to keep calling my caretaker to clean up the mess for me. I wish my ears weren't so sensitive that I involuntarily yell and cringe with noises. I wish I had adequate socks or rugs to help with the floor issue, and could purchase what I need without the items making me ill. There are plentiful thorns on my bushes, and despite my careful efforts I still get pricked by them.
And yet...
And yet, my friends, just look at the roses! Because if you had been walking down my street early this morning at exactly the right moment you would have overheard such an immoderate cachinnate that I guarantee you'd have become insatiably curious to learn of what good life I have that would explain such a happy outburst.
I am blessed - so, so blessed.
No matter how sharp or numerous the thorns, the stunning beauty of the roses is undeniable. I was handed a rose, and what woman isn't honored by such a gift?
By myself.
I suppose it's considered an odd thing to do, seeing as laughter is generally shared with others. But sometimes joy gets the better of me and I don't particularly see a need to repress it, resulting in such an outpouring of mirth that it's no wonder some people think I'm crazy.
Or that I enjoy being sick. I don't, but why should that ruin my day? Some things are simply too delightful to be left unlaughed at.
One phenomenon that tends to bring it on is when I drop something on the floor that ought to have shattered only to discover it intact. My floor is ceramic tile, and yet I have these glass plates that will bounce and flop merrily around until coming to rest without so much as a chipped rim. The noise is awful but it's so funny to watch, in fact, I'm sorely tempted to start with a full stack of them one of these days and drop them one at a time just to observe the results.
What's holding me back is I'm not sure my caretaker would find it amusing, since she'd be the one cleaning up the mess.
It's still a thought, though.
***
I'm grateful for laughter. I consider it a gift, not something I could ever hope to create inside myself, so when it's there it definitely makes the list of things I'm thankful for.
I have my ups and downs like everyone else, even within the same day. I've cried today. I've spent many a moment in subdued pondering, listening to the silence. I know life isn't all roses. But among the thorns the roses *are* there, and as Abraham Lincoln once said:
We can complain because rose bushes have thorns...
...or we can rejoice that thorn bushes have roses.
...or we can rejoice that thorn bushes have roses.
Complaining is a skill that comes naturally to most of us. I wish my floor wasn't so cold and hard, because it chills my feet and causes pain. I wish I could eat and drink from plastic/paper dishware without becoming ill from it, so that I wouldn't have to keep calling my caretaker to clean up the mess for me. I wish my ears weren't so sensitive that I involuntarily yell and cringe with noises. I wish I had adequate socks or rugs to help with the floor issue, and could purchase what I need without the items making me ill. There are plentiful thorns on my bushes, and despite my careful efforts I still get pricked by them.
And yet...
And yet, my friends, just look at the roses! Because if you had been walking down my street early this morning at exactly the right moment you would have overheard such an immoderate cachinnate that I guarantee you'd have become insatiably curious to learn of what good life I have that would explain such a happy outburst.
I am blessed - so, so blessed.
No matter how sharp or numerous the thorns, the stunning beauty of the roses is undeniable. I was handed a rose, and what woman isn't honored by such a gift?
