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| HUMOR FROM THE PUMPKIN PATCH By Marti Lawrence Articles published in The Examiner Newspaper The Law of Averages As luck would have it, (which of course, means Misfortune has struck yet again) it has been an unusually rainy summer. This is precipitated (sorry, bad pun) by the leak in my roof. According to the Rules of Misfortune, because my roof has developed a leak, rain will fall in vastly greater quantities than normal. Once the roof is replaced, expect drought conditions. On those few brief days when the skies haven’t been drenching us, I have contacted roofing contractors to come by for estimates on the repairs. This has been an interesting experience. First, these are humans who have discovered some magical way to defy The Laws of Nature. They scurry up their ladder to the rooftop, which is pitched as steeply as Mt. Everest, and walk around on it as if it’s normal for your toes to point to your nose (without your legs being broken). |
| I frown, knowing Gravity, the tights-and-cape-wearing-superhero, “Enforcer for The Laws of Nature," is always on alert for any transgressions in my area. I expect at any moment for the person-on-the-roof to become the-person-on-the-ground. But it doesn't happen. They refuse to share the secret of their magical anti-gravity ability with me, and glance around nervously after being asked. Second, there is something about being given the ability to defy gravity that causes many of them to believe that conversations with mere mortals such as myself, must be conducted on a very simplistic level. They talk down to me (even when they’re not on the roof) and believe I am incapable of understanding home construction principles. Many of our conversations went something like: Roofers: “See, up on the top of your house (motioning their his hands, to assist me in understanding the concept of “up”), it’s covered with shingles. And this here thing, that’s your lightening rod. Only it ain’t supposed to be on the ground over here, see?” (They motion and point again, and I look at the lightening rod lying on the ground, still attached to the chimney brick which was struck by a large tree limb during a storm, causing it to dislodge and tumble to earth). They kindly inform me that the brick and lightening rod were once attached to the rest of the chimney, which coincidentally, is missing a brick. Me: “Well, you see, a while back during one of those big storms…” Roofers: “You know what probably happened? That big ol’ limb hanging right there by the chimney…” (They pause momentarily, mentally calculating wind speed and branch/thrust ratio). “I’ll betcha that limb knocked that brick off! And then…the brick AND the lightening rod fell down over here!” They saunter off proudly, basking in the glow of their cognitive abilities, and I make mental notes to share the story with friends. This is a mistake. Karma comes around quickly, to let me know I shouldn't deride others. My lightening-rod-less house gets struck by lightening. |
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