It isn’t something I can wrap in tissue paper and hide between the mattresses. Not that I hide things in my mattress, of course. I just happen to know it’s an option.

You can’t drop it, chip it, or break it. And thank goodness, you can’t accidentally leave it behind.

Although, I suppose there have been a few occasions when mine has gone missing.

Usually in the middle of a conversation with someone who doesn’t seem to have one.

I’ve always found it rather interesting how two people can experience the exact same situation and come away with entirely different stories. One person remembers what went wrong. The other remembers the ridiculous thing that happened in the middle of it.

I’m generally the one who remembers the ridiculous thing.

Sometimes at the most inappropriate moment.

You know the kind. When everyone is supposed to be serious, and suddenly a thought enters your head that has absolutely no business being there.

And now you’re trying not to laugh.

Which, of course, makes everything ten times worse.

Sometimes I laugh before I’ve even started telling the story.

Which is terribly inconvenient for the person waiting to hear it.

And sometimes there’s no story at all. I’m just amused.

I suppose that’s what makes my sense of humor so special to me. It doesn’t wait for an occasion, an invitation, or even a particularly good joke.

It’s simply part of who I am.

But of all the things I’ve collected, misplaced, given away, or tucked into drawers and forgotten about, this is one possession I hope never to lose.

Although, if I ever do, I sincerely hope whoever finds it knows what to do with it.