Taking My Lumps

Dear God, I might be dying, and you have to butcher my blowout too?

Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash

It was about a week before the first anniversary of my husband’s death at four-thirty in the morning and I was at my desk doing my best to crack myself up. I subscribe to the Mel Brooks school of humor which says, “If you laugh, they’re going to laugh.”