Being human is not a walk in the park. Squirrels are everywhere. No, wait, I don’t mean that. Let me start over. Being human is not a picnic. Ants in your pants. No, that isn’t quite right, either.

Being human is not something we signed on for. At least I don’t remember filling out paperwork before they let me climb into the uterus and grow like a watermelon.

If you have paperwork pre-birth, shoot me a copy because you might make it into the Guinness Book of World Records.

“Fetus unnamed as yet, signs on for 9 months of uterine growth, followed by a slip sliding away into the arms of someone waiting to spank the bejeezus out of ‘em….”

And it often feels downhill from there, not to mention you have so many lightyears of paperwork ahead of you.

Death and taxes are certain. Everything else is pretty “iffy” and you can quote me on that.

Why am I bothering to write this drivel?

Because one of my best friends has given us all a good cry and now we need a good laugh. I have it on high authority that he is laughing, too.

See, there are no worrywarts in heaven. Isn’t that good news?

Down here, everything has to be pre-certified and pre-approved, excluding zits, pot bellies, receding hairlines and gum surgery, etc. and so forth.

I vote for amnesty for us all.

At least being human gets you that famous free ride around the sun. (Wear sun screen.)

Vicki Woodyard