Reflections of Laughter

My peeps where I work tell me I don’t need to write fiction because my life has enough hilarity and comic relief in and of itself.  Some days they say it’s like it must be true because nobody could make anything up that funny (or crazy).  

Take last month for example.  I had a bit of a problem with my garage door opener.  It all started one day when I tried to open the garage to get my car out.  Dead.  As a doornail.  Now, I have three garage door openers and I tried two of them and they didn’t work. I have a spare garage door opener in the house and I went back in to get it.  It wasn’t where I thought it would be so I looked all around.  Couldn’t find it. I tried to think about what to do. The garage only has one way to get in and that’s through the garage door.  I surmised that either the garage door opener must be broken or my garage door remote batteries are out.  BOTH out at the same time. 

I called my son-in-law and he already left for work.  I called my daughter.  At 630a in the morning. 

Sorry, I says.  I need to go to work.  If I can’t get into the garage to get my car out I need a ride. She has a spare garage door opener so she drives by, stops in front of the garage and pushes it.  Immediately it opened.  You’re kidding, right?

I smiled and thanked her (she is a saint).  I went to work.  

I told my peeps what kind of morning I’d already had.  They laughed.  Well, at least something good came of the whole garage door thing.

After work I went and bought three new batteries. I put them in the garage door openers and tried to get the door open.  Nothing.  Really?  

I call my daughter.  She comes by and punches the garage door and it opens 1^st time.  No, really?  

I pull the car in and leave the door open enough so I can crawl under to get in. 

The next morning I try my garage door openers again expecting nothing.  The door goes down.  FINALLY.  I’m getting somewhere.  I punch it again.  Nothing.  Dead.  This can’t be happening.  

I try about 50 more times. Nothing. 

I call my daughter.  At 639a in the morning (I told you she’s a saint). She drives by and doesn’t even stop.  She just hits the button and it opens. She’s laughing.  I’m not.

My peeps at work thought it was hilarious.

My son-in-law looks at my garage door (he’s a saint, too) and decided to replace the old manual lock in the garage door so I'll have a key.  That way I can open the garage door even if my wonderful garage door remotes won’t work. 

He gives me the key.

Next day (weekend) I went out and tried to open the garage door with my new manual key. 

It won’t open.   

I call my daughter.  She comes with my son-in-law and their two kids.   

My son-in-law puts the key in and it works first time.   

Wow.   

Evidently I left out an important step.  He went over the steps with me to show me how it works.  I think he thought I could figure it out for myself.   

Right.

Now my peeps at work are rolling on the floor. 

Just to be safe, my son-in-law looked at the garage door opener and my remotes and for him they all worked.  

I honestly don’t know what happened, but I decided my garage door remotes hate me. 

My peeps still talk about the garage door affair.  What’s scary s that this kind of stuff happens to me all the time. 

 

See what I mean about not needing to write fiction?

I talk to God and tell Him I’m laughing my head off here…God smiles and chuckles with me.