Earlier this week I read the delightful novel One Plus One by Jojo Moyes; it’s the story of a single mom with a chaotic life, two kids, and a stinky dog who gets thrown together on a road trip with a nerdy software developer whose life is also falling apart. The book is both funny and sweet and I highly recommend it (there are some spots of rough language and some sex, FYI). Yesterday I was trying to explain the book to a friend and why I loved it so much, despite the rather ridiculous twists and turns the plot takes along the way. My friend replied “I’m much more likely to suspend my disbelief for a crazy plot than for unbelievable characters”, and I realized that I feel the same way. As long as the characters in a book are believable, I’m willing to put up with a lot from the plot. Besides, I’ve learned that life can be pretty absurd at times. If I ever write a novel, I have more than situation that I could add that I know would leave readers shaking their heads in disbelief.

For example, there was the time my little brother got stuck in a trash can lid at a rest stop in Idaho. My family spent a few years living an hour away from Boise and we would often drive in to the city to run errands. One afternoon my mom pulled off for a little break at the rest stop right outside town; she just needed to close her eyes for a few minutes she told us kids. I don’t know if we were supposed to be watching out for my six-year-old brother or not, but somehow he decided that he needed to climb down into the hole in the center of the round plastic trash can lid. After we frantically woke my mom up, she pulled him and the lid out of the can, and realized that the six-inch lip inside the hole was now jammed down around his hips. A helpful crowd gathered and tried a number of different thing–including stripping his clothes off in the bathroom and lubricating him with hand soap. Nothing worked. Eventually a member of the highway patrol showed up, and after trying a few things that also failed, loaded my little brother into the front seat of his car and had us follow him into town to a fire station. One firefighter held my little brother upside down while two others carefully used a hacksaw to cut the lid off. Apparently we made the front page of the Idaho state highway patrol newsletter that month.

Or there was the wackiest dinner appointment of my mission. My companion and I were invited to accompany a set of elders to eat at woman’s home. She and her adult daughter lived in a tiny apartment with two very large dogs. My companion and I were seated on a saggy couch on one side of the room, with a card table jammed up against our knees, and the elders took rickety chairs on the other side of the table. The entire precarious set up was exacerbated throughout the entire meal by the dogs who kept running under the table and trying to squeeze up on the couch with my companion and I. While the women went into the kitchen to bring the food out, her daughter came in and turned on the stereo to some very loud English-language rap music. After the daughter retreated to her room, one of the elders reached over to turn down the stereo. The daughter immediately reappeared, glared at us, and turned the music back up. We repeated this maneuver several times throughout the night. Our host served us fish sticks, salad, and bread and we all ate more than one helping of food. In the country where I served my mission, the main meal is eaten during the middle of the day and usually involves at least two courses of food and a dessert. We had come over at 9:00 PM for “supper” at this woman’s house and assumed it would be a lighter, one-course meal. You can imagine the horror and panic we four missionaries felt as we began thanking her for the food, and she brightly said “good–now we’re ready for the main course!” As she headed back into the kitchen we all frantically whispered “what are we going to do now?”, especially once we caught sight of the heaping plates of chicken and rice she brought out for us. Somehow a miracle happened and we all managed to eat more food without offending our host and without throwing up. It certainly was a memorable evening, but one I hope I never have to repeat.

I’m not a fiction writer and probably won’t ever use these situations in a novel anytime in the future. Right now I’m going to stick with enjoying the ability of others to write stories that make me smile. I will, however, keep an eye out for the humor on my life because there are always moments where the line gets crossed from painful to ridiculous and laughing is so much better than crying. Like the time last year when I thought I’d resell my wedding ring, since it had been sitting in a jewelry box for two years after my divorce. It turns out that the diamond was deeply flawed (symbolic?) and not worth much, so the jeweler I went to didn’t want it. I got back in my car, turned the key, and was greeted by Taylor Swift singing “we are never, ever getting back together!” Good timing, car radio.

It’s Friday and I think we could all use a laugh. What are some of your favorite stories about when your life was stranger than fiction?