Don’t let anyone tell you there’s no such thing as Karma (with a capital K). She is there, and she is watching.

I am going to relay the events of the last few days so you may perhaps avoid falling into Karma’s trap, what I now call “asking for it,” in a return for a cheap laugh.

Last week, my husband Matt got poison ivy on his face. Undoubtedly, he came into contact with the poison here at home, but it didn’t surface until he was in New York City a couple of days later.

He sent me a photo of his face and his eye was swelled so that it sort of looked like he’d been clocked, and he also appeared perpetually mad– but only on one side. He looked like a mishmash combination of Popeye, Seinfeld’s Uncle Leo, and Rocky Balboa after a fight.

And he was roaming around New York City looking like that.

Can you imagine?

poison ivy with matt copy

I felt sorry for him. Really. When he gets poison ivy, it’s bad and there’s nothing worse than getting it in the eye. I told him how terrible I felt about it, and I commiserated with him and I meant every word.

Then I got a good belly laugh because who wouldn’t laugh thinking about Popeye, Uncle Leo, and Rocky all rolled into one — and walking around New York City, no less. Can’t you see it? I could. And after I finished laughing, I did the only thing I could think of that was appropriate for the situation. I turned his picture into a witty meme, and I sent it back to him.

Let me be clear: I did not make the witty meme public. I feel this is an important point. I sent it in a private message to him. He never replied to it, but he didn’t have to, because I know he thought it was hilarious too.

When he came home, the poison got worse and he was looking more and more like Rocky Balboa. I tried not to look at him, but I was drawn to his pitiful, asymmetrical, swollen face every time he walked into the room. I want to say again — I truly, genuinely felt bad that he was miserable, so to avoid laughing when we talked, I tried to focus on the wall behind him, his forehead, his left shoulder.

Nothing helped.

Popeye-Uncle Leo-Rocky as more than I could bear. I am only human. I was eventually able to refrain from laughing, but I could never manage to tame the goofy smile that formed on my lips each and every time I saw him.

I should have tried harder, because empathy isn’t enough for Miss Karma. She demands complete austerity.

Two days after he returned from New York, on the very day that he went to the doctor for professional poison ivy treatment, I got a cold sore.

Two days after that, I got another one. Two cold sores.

The next day, I accidentally head-butted Wyatt and got a bruise on my forehead.

Then I had to go to Dylan’s school for a three and half hour event with a gazillion people while I had two cold sores and a bruise on my forehead.

Yesterday, I started getting sick.

I do not claim these things are equal to poison ivy in the eye, so I am a little concerned over what might happen to me next. But I can already tell you: the laugh from Popeye-Uncle Leo-Rocky was NOT worth it.

Karma is alive and well, folks. She’s watching and waiting. And she is ruthless.

Comment (1)

  1. Matthew

    Adian! Adrian! We did it!


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