All it’s cracked up to be

As I’ve said many times before, I rely on humor to get me through.

Whether it’s in the wake of near disaster (read about that here, here or here) or to navigate the mundane — like this, the ridiculous (like this event here) or some other nonsense (like those two different shoes, which are still dogging me), I must look for the laugh.

I swear it’s what keeps me sane.

As I told a friend this week (and with apologies to the late Dudley Moore’s Arthur character): Sometimes, I think funny thoughts.

Often self-deprecating and typically punny (I do love good wordplay), the beauty of these thoughts is sometimes lost on others.

I’ve come to accept that my cracks will not always be appreciated.

Because I lean toward the politically incorrect and naughty, my humor sometimes gets me in trouble or is misunderstood. Consequently, I keep a lot of funny thoughts to myself, or share them only with Basil and close friends.

These last couple of weeks, though, I’ve been working the humor circuit hard for a friend who had to have emergency surgery. (I can tell you about Kristen’s insides, because she’s already told everyone on her blog, here.)

She is usually an upbeat person who looks for the silver lining, but let’s face it, having unexpected surgery sucks. Kristen has a long recovery ahead, so many of us are working to keep her spirits up every way we can.

Work commitments keep me from visiting as much as I’d like, so I do what I can. Each morning, I’ve sent her some bon mots, silly thoughts, crazy “to-do” lists or other musings. We’ve joked about the mass organizing her mom has undertaken during afternoon visits, how the doctor removed the surgical staples, and what she might be able to wear on her one outing to the doctor this week since she’s been living in oversized sweats.

Mostly I’ve gone for giggles because guffaws would hurt too much.

But today, I had nothing.

Zip. Zilch. Zero.

I was not funny at 6:30 am.

I was functional and busy — having already stripped and remade the bed, emptied the garbage and dishwasher, finished the grocery list, learned two new Jazzercise routines and gotten myself ready for work.

But not funny.

I apologized, and Kristen assured me well-wishes were appreciated even unaccompanied by witticisms.

I felt I let her down, though. And I worried, too.

If my sense of humor goes, I’m sunk.

Fortunately, this week’s presidential debate paved the way for a vast helping of humor. I pointed Kristen to Amazon.com’s Avery binder listing, which as of this writing  has 1,000+ “customer reviews” about Mitt Romney’s apparent office supply of choice.

In the spirit of keeping things light, I share it with you, too.