I have been laughing SO much and SO hard the last two weeks. More often and more deeply – at times, almost uncontrollably – than I remember laughing in years. Maybe since I was a kid. I have no idea why (I haven’t been taking any unusual substances, I assure you), but it feels like some joy button that had been on delay mode has been switched on deep inside.
Authentic laughter is so good for our authentic selves. According to HelpGuide.Org, some of the benefits of laughter include:
- Laughter relaxes the whole body. A good, hearty laugh relieves physical tension and stress, leaving your muscles relaxed for up to 45 minutes after.
- Laughter boosts the immune system. Laughter decreases stress hormones and increases immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies, thus improving your resistance to disease.
- Laughter triggers the release of endorphins, the body’s natural feel-good chemicals. Endorphins promote an overall sense of well-being and can even temporarily relieve pain.
- Laughter protects the heart. Laughter improves the function of blood vessels and increases blood flow, which can help protect you against a heart attack and other cardiovascular problems.
The benefits of laughter are not only emotional, but physical. Plus, laughter is infectious (in a good contagious way) and helps create social harmony and camaraderie.
Many of the things that have had me in stitches, I have not been able to figure out how to write about. They’ve been those “you had to be there” kind of situations.
But here I am attempting to describe what, this morning, had me laughing so hard I was practically screaming when I could get a breath in and out.
My boyfriend and I were in bed trying to get some more shut eye after a late night and an early morning breakfast across town. One of the two cats, Lady, was curled up in bed next to me, snoozing.
From the living room came sounds of the other, Katie, tearing across the carpet from one end of the room to the other, back and forth, moving fast and furious, bumping against the floor board in her turns so you could hear the coiled door stop with rubber cap shamelessly whirring and buzzing like some crazed psychedelic rock musical instrument.
I listened to this go on for quite some time, having thoughts like: “What on Earth has gotten into that cat? Did the big pigeons, or a squirrel, mount the seed feeder again? Frisky with a capital F!! I have got to see this. What if I could get a picture? No, she’d stop the minute I got out of bed and look at me like ‘What’s all the fuss about?’”
So, I just stayed in bed, listening to the cat, and started to giggle. When she eventually stopped, I asked George if he had heard that, and of course he had. I mentioned how the door stop had even been buzzing and he asked, “Is THAT what that was?”
I said, “That was like the Indianapolis 500,” right about the same time George said, “That was some cat marathon.”
I said, “We have got to come up with a term for this.”
“For what?”
“For that Indianapolis 500 cat marathon thing.”
“That's it, baby. There’s your term. The Indianapolis 500 Cat Marathon.”
At which point I promptly broke into hysterics.
And then Katie sauntered in, calm as a puddle after a rain storm on a hot summer day. “Did you win?” I asked her.
“Oh yes, she did,” said George. “She won first, second, AND third!”
At which point I promptly broke into hysterics again.
Now the cats have nicknames.
Katie is Our Little Mazerati.
Lady is known simply as Rolls.
Whether or not you find this story funny, I hope you find something to laugh really, really hard about this week. It’s good for you. J
Authentically Yours, Laura
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