I lost my sense of humor sometime last night. I’m not sure exactly when, but I woke up this morning and it was definitely gone. It’s weird because I didn’t do much yesterday — usually this stuff disappears with your cellphone or car keys when you’re drunk as a skunk in the Mission. Could it be in my building’s laundry room? I looked all over my office but it’s certainly not lying around. I even tried calling it but I didn’t hear anything (though I might have set it to “vibrate” before I left last night).
The Lad and I are hopping a plane to Seattle tonight to gape at Emily’s new sprog so I guess I’ll have to live without it this weekend, unless I can get to a Walgreens and pick up a new one. I just hate to buy another when I know mine is sitting around in some perfectly obvious place waiting to be found.
Actually it might be for the best. I was kind of worried they might not let me bring it on the plane. Southwest will usually let you get away with it, but you know, humor terrorists. It would be so easy for someone to paralyze a pilot with spasms of laughter and then take over the plane and crash it into an amusing orifice of Mount Rushmore.* I hear they won’t even let Sean or Jason within five miles of an airport these days, the poor bastards.
I guess I’ve become too dependent on it anyway. I’m finding I can barely get through a day at work without it. Maybe it’s time to kick the habit once and for all.
*Which is nowhere near Seattle. Maybe my sense of humor ran off to join my long-missing spatial acuity.