Way back when, when I was a kid, I remember watching Hee-Haw with the Good King Dad. (Obviously this was before DHS, because cornball, redneck humor is surely child abuse). There was one recurring sketch that featured someone singing "If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."
Well, I was trying to explain to someone the other day how that could probably be my theme song. I know of no silver lining too shiny to dispel a dark cloud. But I've come to accept and, to some degree, expect that thunderhead. Instead of moping (too much) about the hole in my umbrella, I just look for the humor in the tarnished silver lining.
They didn't get it.
You see, in the cosmic storms of fortune and fate, I'm a lightening rod for bad luck, catastrophe, inconvenience and misfortune. It's no one's fault -- just the opposite. People try to do nice things for me, but once I get involved it turns out all higgledy-piggledy. And when I try to do nice things for me, it's "Whoa Nelly! Bar the door!" Which brings me to what I thought was a funny story.
About a year ago I had to go in for a follow-up mammogram because of a shadow on the initial x-ray. Given my family history, I wasn't too surprised. In fact, I had an eerie feeling when I left the imagining center that first time.
Happily, the second x-ray was clear. (Yay me!) I decided to treat myself to a little caffeinated goody to celebrate. I was in downtown Iowa City anyway, and I needed to go to the library, so I figured I'd visit one of the hundreds of coffee shops on the ped mall.
The shine of my silver lining must have been absolutely blinding, because I found an on-street parking spot only half a block from the library. I fed the parking meter, slipping but not falling on the icy curb. Did I mention it was February and colder than a witches' mammogram?
After a quick (but careful) sprint to the library I decided it would be best to limit my outdoor exposure, so I popped in to the adjacent coffee shop. My silver lining was frosted but still shining, and Lady Luck favored me with a comfy chair near the window, toasty warm from the sunlight.
I enjoyed -- nay, savored -- my latte and sinfully delicious blueberry muffin, while losing myself in the trials and tribulations of Elinor and Marianne Dashwood of "Sense and Sensibility." At length, my cup was empty, the crumbs cleared, and the Dashwoods had reached the end of a chapter.
I headed back to the car, filled with bonhomie. My tummy was full, caffeine level high and the girls had received a clean bill of health. All was right with the world.
I also had a parking ticket.
Take that, you silver lining!
Most expensive coffee I've ever had. And worth every penny.