Thoughtful people have "aha" moments. Moments of insight, of grace, of universal deliverance. The older I get the less I expect to have eye openers of this magnitude. But I do, sometimes have "haha" moments. Unexpected humor discovered in or after a minor moment of daily survival.
Recently I thought that recording a haha moment a day would contribute to my overall well being, probably because, for the last week, I saw my son infuse his Facebook page with daily #100happydays experiences. That is "hashtag 100 happy days." My son just became engaged and though happiness is an expected ingredient for such an event, daily, public acknowledgement of such happiness is rather new to me. I am thrilled that he takes the time to "show and tell." Definitely a sign of thoughtfulness.
But back to my exploration of humor. I documented my first #dailyhaha in an email to a friend.
It involves a long history of periodic back spasms, a day spent flat on my back, due to said back spasms, and my discovery upon recuperation, that I had resumed ordinary tasks without really paying attention. You see, I can't remember ever not closing the toilet lid. It's a reflex. But when my back hurt a few days ago and I couldn't bend without making groaning sounds, I left it open. The next morning, after brushing my teeth, I turned slowly, afraid of possible ypain, and to my surprise I saw that the lid was closed. Apparently my pain was gone. I smiled a silent haha.
There have been other hahas since then. I took the doll I am working on outside for a photo shoot in the neighbor's apricot tree. The doll, Heiner, still without pants, complained about his pantless existence and I showed him that I was working on a pair of blue sweat pants for him.
I felt the haha coming on when I realized that I had a "conversation" with a doll.
Yesterday morning delivered the funniest haha so far. While watering the front yard I contemplated the challenges of aging. I congratulated myself on jobs well done.
Front porch vacuumed, back patio swept, weeds pulled, ivy cut back. Earlier I had dusted, washed breakfast dishes, answered emails, paid a bill, researched some facts online for a friend, noted my impression of a Lawrence Durrell book, spent ten minutes working on a new app that is supposed to keep my brain lubricated.
"I am doing well for my age," I told myself, winding the hose back onto its hanger.
"I hope I didn't get my white shorts dirty," was my next thought, a reminder to check myself out in the mirror before I left the house to do some shopping.
I can still hear the boys - Heiner and Hector - giggle. They tried to hide their laughter by turning their backs to me. Heiner, by the way, was wearing his new pants.
What amused them?
Well, their confident maker, knitter extraordinaire, all around well adjusted housemate - I - standing in front of the hallway mirror, saw with great shock that I had forgotten to zip up my white shorts. I had spent about an hour outdoors, in various poses, nodding to a stranger in a passing car, waving hello to the neighbor across the street, halting midway down the ladder to observe a utility worker exit his parked truck.
Grudgingly I forced myself to accept the image in the mirror into my newly established #dailyhaha repertoire.