Tragedy or Comedy?

Yes, you know. Events transpire. Shit happens. You lose your shit. Things fuck up. Things fall apart. You lose things. You misplace your favorite hat. You destroy your phone in the wash-cycle, you get wet, you don't sleep well, you are "tense and nervous and can't relax," (hat tip: David Byrne's "Psycho Killer"), you are weary, deflated, energy-depleted, sore-armed from vaccinations, over-dogged, plowed-under.

If that's the end of the story, it's a tiny little tragic existence with comedic undertones. Sort of a Samuel Beckett one-act.

But if instead, you endure, you roll with the punches, keep calm, carry on, get your shit back together, un-fuck the fucked-up, you are reunited with your favorite hat, buy a new phone, dry yourself off, sleep well, find your grounding and calm center, recharge, get energized, shake off the soreness, spend time with feathered creatures instead of furry ones, re-emerge into the sunlight, with a smile and a swagger, well, that's a different story.

Now you find yourself in a laugh-riot, Neil Simon comedy. Everything is a bit funny with an undercurrent of tragic-ness in simple human folly. Funny with a slice of sad...

That's life...