God Must Have Had a Good Laugh This Week

There’s an old saying: If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

God must have laughed hysterically this week.

I started mine with an action plan. Not a vague “to-do” list or a collection of hopes and dreams. An actual plan.

Every day had a purpose. Every appointment had a place. I had carefully balanced major personal appointments with HOA responsibilities. There was a board meeting on the calendar. Gabby had her annual vet appointment. There was time for writing. Time for photography. Time for all the things that make me feel like a reasonably functioning adult.

The week looked beautiful on paper. By Tuesday, it had fallen into a thousand pieces.

I had used a neighbor’s freezer for years. It died last Christmas. It’s strawberry and peach season, and I have no place to store them. I finally bought a small freezer of my own. I paid extra for an upright frost-free version. I do not have time at this point in my life to be chipping ice or leaning inside a chest freezer—way too close to a coffin.

The garage door needed help, and I needed up-to-date remotes. I won’t bother you with the details; let’s say three service calls and $600 later, everything sounded and functioned normally.

The upcoming freezer delivery triggered a complete garage transformation. I wanted a gallery wall of artwork I missed, but the house had no room for it.

The 50+ holes in the wall were patched. The walls got painted. The floor was cleaned.

I discovered I own an alarming number of brooms and ladders.

Not an unreasonable number. An alarming number. I only needed a couple of brooms for backup transportation if the car dies.

There were also four ladders. How many do I really need to fall from and land in the ER? One belonged to my deceased husband, Paul. He hasn’t used it in 25 years. I don’t think he will.

Meanwhile, the HOA golf cart, which lives in my garage, was dead. It needed its batteries jump-started for the summer. I found myself staring at the battery charger and wondering if there was a human version.

The neighborhood leak that had been driving us crazy for months was finally located.

The patio got power-washed. The gutters got cleaned. The new employee from the pest control company sprayed my windows with such abandon that the company offered to clean the windows. Kenny, my landscaper, finally planted the last of my flowers.

Then there was Gabby.

At her annual appointment, the veterinarian informed me she was overweight.

Aren’t we all, buddy?

Then she had a reaction to her shots and spent the next day not feeling well, which immediately moved her to the top of the priority list.

As if the week wasn’t busy enough, we got called to Millstone for updated team photos.

At 8:45 on Friday morning. With hair done. Makeup applied and dressed like people whose lives were proceeding exactly according to plan.

I was happy to be included in the team photo. Nice to be remembered. Nice to be part of something.

The woman in the photograph appears rested, organized, and put together.

The actual woman had three service people in her garage, a sick dog, a neighborhood leak, and a freezer delivery.

You know this week.

Every phone call creates three more.

Every task produces three additional tasks.

You spend the entire week moving frantically and somehow never arriving anywhere.

The funny thing is that weeks like this never feel productive.

But eventually, the garage looks great.

The leak gets found.

The dog feels better.

The appointments get handled.

And somehow, so do you.

I think that’s why so many of us keep going.

Not because we enjoy the chaos. Because we’ve learned something important.

The plan usually falls apart.

Life rarely cooperates.

But most of the time, we figure it out anyway.

I like to think that while God was laughing hysterically, there was a divine plan for the chaos to bring beauty into my life.

By Saturday, I was laughing too.