Sunday, January 7, 2007

So, funny story.

I'd just like to preface this post by noting that as a habit, what I dub as "funny stories" are usually not funny to anyone besides myself. Case in point: When I was released from the hospital in Boston, after finding out I had leukemia, I went back to my room to tell my roommate. I'm pretty sure I answered her well-meaning "How are you??" with a, "So, funny story..." And then I went on to explain what was up. I realize it's rather morbid, but I feel that most situations should be bettered with the advent of laughter. Anyway. So, today's funny story. I don't really live in a large house. It's comfortable, I like the colors and our couches, but it isn't really that big. We have seven small, green-carpeted stairs that lead to our upstairs. As a youth, full of vim and vigor, I used to bound up these stairs. Take them, two, three at a time. I thought nothing of it. They are small steps, and I had neither the time nor the patience to walk on each individual stair. So, today, I had to go upstairs. And of course, I'm not thinking, oh wait Caroline, you have no muscles left in your thighs. Haha, you can't jump. So I go for the stairs. And fall. Not very hard, but I didn't make it up to the second step. My mom was like, "Oh no, are you okay?" And I just kind of laughed. Because it's funny. I totally wasn't expecting not to be able to jump up the stairs. But I'm learning fun new things like that every day. So that made me chuckle. It's still cracking me up, actually.

On a related, more or less serious note, I have found myself laughing a lot more. I don't know why. I'm not necessarily any happier than I have been before. But I really like laughing now. I tend to laugh at myself a lot, or Family Guy, or the absurdities that are the suburbs. I think I've decided that if I'm going to be bald, I might as well be bald and smiling. And you know what? I feel better about it. I mean, really, why not smile, or laugh, or whatever? So here's hoping I can keep on smiling. Don't worry, I'm not becoming some ridiculous, giggly optimistic idealist whom, if I met on the street, I would probably kick in the shins. I'm still my guardedly cynical self. But I am vaguely getting the idea that one of my body's coping mechanisms is becoming laughter. So, rock on. And do me a favor, laugh at yourself tomorrow. Because, we really are all ridiculous. It's fantastic. \m/


Megan Amanda Steffen said...

Yeah. Your funny stories require a redefinition of the word "humor."

But right now I'm laughing at the fact that since I last talked to you, my poison oak has spread ALL OVER MY BODY. It's hilarious, it looks like I have little chicken pox all over my stomach and thighs. Yummy. I hope that makes you laugh too because I know I can't stop cracking up.

Caroline said...

I feel like you're being sarcastic. But it's difficult to tell on account of the gross lack of translatable emotion over the internet. Either way. Wear oven mitts. And good luck.