I've had people tell me they love my laugh. I don't get it, but all my life people have said it enough that I'm tempted to almost believe them. Apparently, it's infectious. My husband says my smile and laugh lights up a room. (But he has to say that, he married me, right?)
Still, I do love to laugh. My ex and I used to go to comedy clubs and come home with our sides aching from laughing so hard. I'm lucky now, though, that my husband makes me laugh every day. And he's especially good at it when I'm feeling sick or grumpy or headachy or premenstrual.
Michael has the goofiest sense of humor. He loves puns, plays on words, and strangeness. He comes up with thoughts and ideas that never would have occurred to me, which is why, I suppose, he surprises a laugh out of me at least twice a day.
Yesterday he came home for lunch and I was feeling cranky. It was one of those days I didn't feel like doing anything--including getting out of bed. Although I did anyway--begrudgingly.
We were cuddled on the couch while he idly flipped channels on the remote. (Ever notice how guys like to do that to sort of relax and zone out?) And inevitably, he skips over the shows I would stop at and stops at the ones I'd skip. It never fails.
So he paused briefly at one of those cop chase shows, "Disorderly Conduct" or some such thing. The voiceover is low and serious: "The suspect is driving ninety miles an hour, endangering life and limb, but the officers must proceed with caution, because they believe the suspect may be armed."
Michael snorts. "Of course he's armed. It would be hard to drive a car without arms, now wouldn't it?"
Surprised, I laugh out loud, shaking my head at his interpretation.
He flips for a while, we talk a little bit, he passes over good stuff like "The View" and "Family Feud" and somehow ends up back on the cop show again. We're watching a different car chase this time, a white Bronco going much faster than OJ's ever did, all over the road.
The announcer comes on, still deadly serious: "The driver, after failing the breathalyzer test and escaping in his vehicle, is now weaving, giving the officers a run for their money."
"Well no wonder he's all over the road," Michael says. "Thank god he wasn't knitting."
It took me a minute... what the--? Knitting? And then it clicks... ohhhhh, weaving... knitting. And again, I'm laughing, rolling my eyes and groaning, but laughing anyway.
And on it went... like a Mystery Science Theater in my living room. By the time he left again for work, I was in much better spirits than I had been before he came home for lunch.
He kissed me goodbye and said, "You know, you always cheer me up."
The feeling's mutual.