God as humorist

I'm not saying that God's not funny, it's just a dark sense of humor. Dark as night. Dark as death.

There I am in my cool, cave-like writing studio. I am writing a short essay when all of the sudden God comes up in it. It turns out I have less to say about what comes up in these essays than one might think. About half of everything I say is a surprise to me. You may be like "I knew he was going to say that!", but not me. For me I am more likely to think "Wait. Really? What does that mean? Oh! Well I'll be." And I am.

So I wasn't picking a fight when, in yesterday's post, I started writing "While I am always ready to call out God, as in, this is God's fault..." But just as I typed that "f" at the start of fault, the most enormous, bloated, grey-brown, cellar dwelling spider I have ever seen, plunged itself down from the ceiling to writhe it's apocalypse of horrifying legs in my face.

Have I ever mentioned my feelings about spiders here? They disturb me greatly, and, occasionally, at the worst, bring up in me feelings of piercing and utter horror. This was a scenario under which such a thing happened.

This is apparently what God finds amusing. And after I had flung myself screaming back from that spider, ran around yelling for awhile, and cowered in a corner of my house while my heroic wife removed the spider from the house using a snow shovel and a train cargo container, I could see the humor of the situation. Which is not, I should point out, the same as actually finding it funny.