Making God laugh, and other adventures in moving cross-country

If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

I've been thinking of that phrase a lot in the last month or so, as one by one, my carefully-made plans for my cross-country move from Philadelphia to Los Angeles have unraveled or been derailed by unexpected obstacles.

Make no mistake - I'm still going to LA. I signed a lease and put a deposit on an apartment, but more importantly, I visited LA a few weeks ago, and the diagnosis was irrefutable. I've got a fever, and the only cure is endless sunshine, taco trucks, legal cannabis, and sitting in traffic on the 405 for three hours. Tony Bennett can keep San Francisco - my heart is in the City of Angels, and I will do whatever it takes to reunite with it there.

I'll just have to wait at least one more week to do so, as Peggy, my car and means of transportation to LA, is in the garage getting her power steering fluid line fixed. It's the latest joke in this comedy of errors, that after having my car inspected not once but twice since September in preparation for this move, less than a week before I was scheduled to depart, Peggy decided to spring a leak that would require major repairs to fix.

Now, I don't believe in God in the way that my Roman Catholic-raised ass is supposed to, but I have to admit, at times like these, God makes a damn good foil. Clearly something in the universe wants me to learn that no matter how much I try to plan and prepare, there will always be things that are out of my control. The universe has been trying to teach me this lesson my whole life, but it might just be sticking this time. As my good friend noted when I was relating this newest twist in my saga to her, "You seem strangely calm about all this."

And I am, because after 33 years and thousands of dollars in therapy, there's really no other way to react when you're hit with these kind of curveballs. Maybe that's obvious to some of you reading this, but for me, this is a hard-learned lesson. 

Does it mean I'm happy this happened? Of course not. I've been planning this move for almost a year now; I've now had to reschedule my departure date twice. Patience is not a virtue I possess in abundance. The negative voice that hangs out in the back of my head keeps whispering that this is proof that I'm making a mistake, and I should call off this whole crazy adventure. Limbo is not my ideal state in which to live, and yet here I am. But just because I'm not happy about it, doesn't mean being stressed or miserable will improve the situation. Instead, I'm choosing to find the silver linings in the situation:
1. At least I discovered the problem with my car before I was on my way to California, not while I was driving through bumblefuck Texas.
2. I get to spend more time with my East Coast family and friends, who I will miss very much when I'm gone.
3. I'm giving God a good chuckle, and as a comedian, isn't my whole job to make people laugh? 

I've realized that, while this move is absolutely a geographical journey, it's an emotional and intellectual journey as well, and I've arrived at a key outpost - the place of accepting and rolling with the unexpected, where you can remain undeterred and focused while laughing right along with God because after all, wouldn't you rather laugh than cry?

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