Not Funny

You know what's funny about getting divorced? Nothing. Nothing's funny about getting divorced.

I keep trying to find the humor, the ridiculous, the sublime, but it's just one gooey, mucky mess of self-help books and Mallomars, hairy legs and burning eyes, weepy mornings and lonely nights. God, it's lame and I'm the lamer for it.

Crying through church, therapy, yoga class and my 12 step program has become a sort of homage to Mary Tyler Moore in my own fashion. You remember at the end of the funeral episode when Peanuts the Clown is crushed by the elephant and Mary's relentless giggles are replaced, a bit too tardy perhaps, by hysterical sobs? That would be me. All the time. But with out the canned audience laughter. Jest me, hogging the Kleenex box, puffy and bleary eyed. Blechhh. Gross. How gross? Gross me out the door, that's how.

I'll keep you posted when things start to get hilarious, though. I was at the ready during my first meeting with my divorce attorney, but, nope. Nothing funny there. I was poised for puns when my son's kindergarten teacher told me that he was, "acting out lately." Wait, maybe... Naw. Children of divorce are decidedly not funny. I've stopped going to weddings, so there's no chance of self-piteous hijinx there. And the staggeringly impressive arsenal of humorless self-help books stacked at my bedside ensures that I go to sleep every night with a perfect frown on my face. Just like Nixon.

On the up side, I'll probably lose more weight. Fewer disposable razors to buy and fewer presents to wrap at Christmas. I'll get to flex those "bitter muscles" that have been on brief hiatus since my adoption fell apart and my husband moved out. And I'll just keep waiting for the hilarious to present itself to me. Whether it's hashing out a custody arrangement or looking for gainful employment in our New Stinkin' Economy, I'll be ready. And to be honest, it could be much worse. Like, daylight savings could end or I could find out that I have cancer. But daylight savings isn't for... oh, really? Shit. Well, I don't have cancer, knock wood. I'm healthy and my son's healthy and this is just gonna suck for a while, that's all.

As someone said to me not that long ago, "It'll be exhilarating!"

Right. Exhilarating the way water-boarding is exhilarating. Sure, there's that. Meantime, for the love of God, somebody step on a banana peel, will ya? I'm dyin' here.