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Nothing funny ever happens to me. My days proceed, one by one, in an orderly and uneventful fashion.
But funny things happen all the time to my friend Sally. She’ll go to the movies, and, groping in the dark, find the one chair with a missing seat. She’ll call a late night psychic for a ‘free’ consultation and get a phone charge for $72.00. Or she’ll give her dog a hug and spend the next two weeks covered in poison ivy. Then she gets to write about it. Lucky, lucky.
So I was encouraged today when something Sally-like happened to me. Hooray!
It all began as a day out for my family and me. We drove to an art museum in a nearby city and found the building and a parking space right away. Admission was free. We delighted in gazing at paintings of birds of all sorts. My children, who in similar situations usually act up and run around, were calm and well behaved.
I was really amazed when nobody had mentioned food. It was lunchtime, but neither my young son nor daughter had said, “I’m hungry.” They were having too much fun –- in an art museum.
My stomach was starting to rumble. Since no one else brought it up, I did.
“Uh, Carolyn? Any ideas for lunch?”
My wife looked at me strangely and said, “Nope.”
After a leisurely tour of the building, we decided to leave. We drove a mile or two until we came to a familiar restaurant. We knew the food would be good but weren’t sure about the kids. It was kind of a quiet place.
Inside, they were both good as gold. Kevin attacked his kid-sized plate of spaghetti and meatballs without once getting up to stare at our fellow diners. Sarah munched chicken fingers while quietly chatting with her mother. All was peaceful.
When it was time to go, I paid our bill and got up to leave. But as I was squeezing out of the small booth, I knocked a half-filled glass of soda onto my lap. In seconds, I could feel the cold wetness covering my legs and everything in between, right down to my underwear. It figured that during this perfect meal, the kids would never spill a drop. But Daddy did.
My wife tried to keep from laughing as I made my way to the men’s room. I hoped no one was watching me. As I walked, I glanced down and saw a huge dark stain covering most of my pants. Finally, I made it inside and grabbed a handful of towels to dry myself off. But of course, they didn’t really help.
Later, we went for ice cream at a roadside stand. Our picnic table was in a sunny spot, helped by a warm breeze. I still wasn’t dry, but I felt much better. I had something to write about.
Of course, if Sally had gone to that same restaurant, she would have knocked over a whole tray of dishes, had an argument with the waiter, and found something unusual in her soup, like car keys.
Some people have all the luck
