Lost Property.

Don't you hate it when you lose something? You spend time retracing your steps trying to find it, look in all the places it might be then look in all the places it couldn't possibly be. Once you have turned everything upside down you begin to suspect that a well-meaning but interfering person may have moved it for safe keeping so you'll never find it. Finally you begin to suspect foul play and run through the list of likely culprits in the manner of Miss Marple. Well I've done all these things but I can't find my sense of humour anywhere.

I'm not even sure about the last time I had it, I must have put it down somewhere or perhaps it fell out of my pocket. It's not as if you can pop to Tesco's and buy another one. I was thinking of borrowing someone else's but it wouldn't fit quite right. 

Humour is not a tangible thing but you certainly know when you've lost it. I become unreasonably annoyed at the smallest things. I take things personally that are not meant that way. I imagine that all the world's gods have my picture on their desk and they wake up every morning thinking ' how can we hassle old Stuka today in a kind of personal vendetta. Things that I should take in my stride become stumbling blocks and I worry about things I have no control of. The world becomes a place of pitfalls instead of opportunity.

I decided many years ago that life was too arbitrary to be taken too seriously. It can be turned to dust by random chance or a turn of fate so it doesn't pay to worry or fret, if you do then the jokes on you. If you can't laugh at yourself and the vagaries of life you're in trouble so I had better find my sense of humour quickly before I lose my marbles as well.