Cosmic Crazyness

This is my life. But seriously, we don't play nearly enough pinball.

I've come to the conclusion that there must be some cosmic system of chaos regulation that causes there to be a direct relationship between the amount of crazy that you put into the world and the amount that gets doled out to you. I think this because I've noticed that there are people* who aren't very crazy at all, who live life in a relatively balanced fashion (work, home, favorite TV shows, normal conversations held at normal volume levels, etc.) and that these same folks just don't seem to fall victim to a huge amount of inexplicably wild stuff that I observe happening in my own life. Then there are folks like me who, as pinballs of nutty energy, ping off of the sides of our life and those around us and, as a result of that continual outpouring of chaos, experience some really crazy stuff.

For instance, here are three vignettes from my life that I feel could only happen to me.

1) About three weeks ago, Mr. L and I did not sleep a wink between about 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. Why is this? Do we have a newborn to attend to? No. Was there some urban disruption happening outside the window? No. Were we lying awake contemplating the uncertainty of our future? No. What happened, in fact, was that our dog got gas. But not just any gas, loud, audible gas.** And every 15-20 minutes for about 4 hours, she would fart, LOUDLY, which would startle her awake, causing her to scramble to get up (small room + huge dog + slippery wood floors makes this a significant event) and bullet out of the room. After about 3 minutes, she would come back, slam herself down on the floor, sigh loudly and fall back asleep. Until 15 minutes later when this would all happen again. For several HOURS. Exhausted the next day at work, I didn't feel at liberty to say, "Excuse me for yawning, but my dog got gas." Because that just sounds too nuts.

2) About two weeks ago, in an attempt to rid myself of a terrible cold I had had for six weeks, I went to the doctor. Everything went fine and I was sent home with some crazy antibiotics and told I might feel better in 2 to 4 weeks. (Awesome. I should note those two weeks included Holy Week and Easter). On the way home, I thought I might treat myself to a bagel and coffee at the shop right next to the doctor's office so I didn't have to make lunch at home and could go directly back to bed and spend more quality time feeling like I was dying.  So I get in line, order my bagel, and get to the front counter where I am reminded by an annoying little sign that this particular coffee shop has a $10 minimum on credit cards. Damn. Do I have any cash? Of course not. This is the 21st Century. But it is too late to bow out as I've already ordered the bagel. So I proceed to have the following conversation:
College-Age Disinterested Register Girl: "$5.01"
Me: "I'm so sorry....I only have a card."
CADRG: "We have a $10 minimum."
Me: "Oh. Okay. We'll then I'll add a cranberry juice."
CADRG: "That's $6.28." Blank Stare.
Me (bordering on getting annoyed): "Ooooookay. Well then how about I get a bag of chips."
CADRG: "That's only $8.05." Looks at her nails.
Me (now beginning to unravel as other customers line up behind me and demonstrate their annoyance at having to wait, my nose starts running and my head feels like it is being crushed by giant fist.): "What are you going to make me buy everything in the damn store? Haha." (I was surprised this was what I said, when what I had intended to say was "I'll have an almond croissant." I added the Haha apparently to make it seem I was joking, when I was clearly NOT.)
CADRG: "I'm sorry. It's our policy."
Me (I feel the waters of annoyance being let loose, but I try to stick to the Almond Croissant Strategy): "Well, it's a bad policy. And it's actually against Mastercard policy.*** You're not supposed to have a minimum."
CADRG: "It's our policy. No exceptions. It's just that they charge us a lot to use the cards."****
Me: "Great."
CADRG: "Is there something else?"
Me: "Yes, um......just give me an almond croissant. Is THAT enough?"
CADRG: "Yes, that's $10.28"
Me: "Thank God."
Now, you're thinking, "That's not that bad. This could happen to anyone." Yes. It could. But that's not it. Having paid my $10.28 disgruntled-ly, I heard the College-Age Disinterested Barista called out that my latte was ready. I picked it up and tried to make it over to the counter so I could get a lid, at which point, burdened by the dozens of items I was trying to carry (wallet, bag of prescriptions, juice, chips, bagel), I DROPPED multiple things INCLUDING the latte, which exploded all over the floor next to the bagel which, in falling, slipped out of its wrapper and landed cream-cheese side down on the nasty welcome mat. So much for my my attempt to make a quick exit after my outburst at CADRG. Now I am faced with the moral dilemma, do I stay to help clean it up or just leave? Spirit broken, I grab a few napkins and start to pathetically mop up the latte, at which point CADB says, "MAAM...I'll come get it with the mop." "I'm sorry," I say. Now you think, it's really over. But NO. Because I am now gripped by the Universe-Crazy-Balancing Mechanism. On top of which this is a JUSTICE issue. A combination which causes me to YELL OUT to the Register Girl as I am crouching on the floor mopping up hot milk with two crappy napkins: "What? Are you going to make me spend another $10 to get another latte?" and then run out of the store. ***** It has been said that one should not cry over spilled milk, but I did cry over this (mostly I was just feeling so TERRIBLE) as I enjoyed my lunch of cranberry juice and potato chips.******You should know that I am laughing out loud as I am writing this, almost too hard to even type. But seriously, who AM I?

3) Last week, I was in TJMaxx looking for new jeans and a new pair of black slacks, both of which had worn out on me simultaneously during Holy Week. In the dressing room, I pull on a pair of jeans only to feel a SEARING pain on the outside of my left thigh. I take the pants back off again and realize that the security tag preventing me from stealing said jeans was missing its back, making it effectively a 1.5 inch long nail which had ripped a 10 inch long slit in the flesh of my thigh. And there I am, dripping blood in the dressing room of TJMaxx with no pants and absolutely no idea what to do. I rationally assessed that I didn't want to put my own pants back on, lest they end up drenched in blood and I be forced to again risk my life as a discount retailer to replace THEM. But I definitely should be wearing pants. So I just stood there, pantless and bleeding thinking: "Why is this my life?"

All that to say, does anyone else feel gripped by this cosmic force of hysteria? Or is it just me?

*I live with one of these people.
** My friend who knows a LOT about dogs tells me dogs shouldn't get audible gas...but should or shouldn't, this was LEGIT.
***Only people with non-crazy spouses who work at banks say things like this. But it is in fact true. And immediately upon recounting this story to Mr. L, he logged on to Mastercard.com and reported them. 'Cause that's how he rolls.
**** Later, I realized that I wanted to say, "Well, that's the cost of doing business." Genius.
***** This ACTUALLY happened, though I myself can barely believe it.
****** Once I got back to the car, I realized that CADRG never even GAVE me the croissant. But I felt re-entry was too humiliating.