I've lost a lot of things in my life. Keys. Money. Bets. Boyfriends. And in those losses, I did one of two things: replaced the lost item or found a way to accept the loss and moved on. Well, recently I've discovered that I've lost my sense of humor. I can't seem to pinpoint the exact moment that I noticed it was missing or where I might have left it, but I'm almost certain it's somewhere in this house. Although, I tend to use my sense of humor much more often when I'm outside the house, so ... Good Lord, it could be anywhere.
My guess is that someone has already scooped it up and taken it home, tried it on, and found that my sense of humor (with its sharp edges and biting sarcasm) was a perfect fit. I love my sense of humor. It has helped me through many awkward moments, and brought light to an otherwise dull Sunday afternoon . Oh, how I miss it. And it's not like I can just go and pick up another sense of humor. It took me years and years to cultivate it, nurture it, and allow it to take risks.
I remember when my sense of humor met its match -- a dry and witty type with impeccable timing and delivery. It took time for them to warm up to each other, but the bantering that ensued after they found their rhythm brought people joy on many a Friday night (especially after a few cocktails). (*Sigh). So now here I am, humorless, finding the days longer and the evenings a little darker.
So be on the alert, people. If you're talking to someone and they fire off a witty comeback or laugh a little too easily at a not-so-funy joke, they may be wearing my sense of humor. You'll know my sense of humor, if you see it. It's clever, quick, and sometimes a little crass. If you find it, please call me right away. I'm having the entire family over for dinner next week, and my sense of humor has always been an important guest at these family events. I'm certain that she would not want to miss it.