Today I am muddled in thought about all things funny. Now, I am not simply talking about funny ha-ha, but also funny strange, funny weird, and funny you have got to be kidding me. Oh, and let's not forget about funny ironic. I am sure you know what I mean.
It is the day that you decide to finally fill your car with gas on your way to work and on the way home the price has dropped by 20 cents. Or maybe it is the kind of funny that you are uncontrollably hungry for BBQ ribs, so you buy them and cook a delicious meal. The next day your local grocery flyer tells you starting today ribs are BOGO (buy one get one free).
Today, I had to have a fountain Diet Dr. Pepper from my local convenience store. I very seldom drink sodas anymore but once in a while, it becomes a must-have. I stopped, in the pouring rain by the way, to indulge my craving, and amid the 4500 kinds of available fountain drinks, one was out-of-order. Yes, only one. Care to guess which one? Diet Dr. Pepper. What kind of sadistic guardian angel allows that to happen?
If I were being scientific and these days, it seems everything is equated to “science,” funny strange and funny weird could also be in the déjà vu family. In French déjà vu translates literally as “already seen.” Wikipedia explains it as the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before. And, while many believe it to be a paranormal experience, mainstream science rejects that theory saying it is just an anomaly of memory. Nearly two-thirds of healthy Americans, 65%, claim to have experienced déjà vu. Does that sound like an anomaly to you? Research also says that it decreases with age and I can definitely attest to that. In my youth, I recall having déjà vu flashes more often than most. As an old soul I tend to experience more “What are the odds?” type of funny. Let me paint you a picture.
When I lived in Maine, my home was a sweet reproduction cape-style house. The original owners had built this 2-year-old home to authentic historical specifications right down to the paint colors as approved by a local historical society. Even the windows were special ordered to a specific size. Of course, it had all the modern conveniences, but its outward appearance was that of a typical 1800’s residence – simple with clean lines. I loved it. It was built on a knoll with the front yard tiered with rocks found on the property. The driveway was long and winding. It started at the base of the property and swept upward to a parking area that met beautiful rock stairs that rose to the house. It was a magical place.
One afternoon I noticed I was missing a ring. It was a piece of jewelry I had designed to include one of my Grandmother’s diamonds. I wore it as a pinkie ring. I frantically searched every room in that house for three days. I searched my car, the porch, the patio – everywhere. It was nowhere to be found. On day three, I decided to search my car one more time. Nothing. Devastated at the realization that it was lost forever, the tears started to flow. I leaned back against the bottom wall of my tiered front garden and gazed off into the beautiful white birch trees that surrounded the property. My head dropped in exhaustion and out of the corner of my eye I saw a twinkle. Nestled in the driveway rocks right between my feet was my ring. What are the odds that at that very moment, in that exact spot, I stopped to cry and bowed my head in utter defeat?
For me these are not rare occurrences. Another “What are the odds?” moment was in California. As I crept along the 55 Freeway at about 11 mph on my way to work, some idiot barreled down an entry ramp without noticing the speed was at a crawl and slammed into me. We inched our way onto the shoulder and this young person, overly emotional and apologetic, screamed incessantly that there was full coverage on the car, and all would be taken care of. I was irritated but the damage to my car was minimal, so I agreed to just exchange information and get on our way. This young idiot was the son of a woman I worked with, and he was driving her car! Bumper-to-bumper traffic in Southern California during rush hour and I am hit by a relative of a coworker. Our recruiting firm employed only fourteen people. What are the odds?
So, if you ever feel alone in your “Seriously, did that just really happen?” moments, think again. Life is much more randomly predictable than we imagine. I do sometimes wish these kinds of moments would magically materialize when I am betting on the long-shot horse #9 in the 5th race to win, place or show just because its name includes “Sassy.” A classic “What are the odds?” moment becomes a “You’ve got to be kidding me” kind of funny when it finishes in fourth place. Life can be laughably ironic. Ah, but that is fodder for yet another rant.
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