What's So Damned Funny?

I think I am funny. Some people tell me I am the funniest person they ever met.
I have even tried standup comedy and got a pretty decent reception.
Lately, the fates have conspired to strip away every vestige of funniness I have.
I am fucking sick of it.
It started to come undone after I quit smoking.
Then my helper Robert had the nerve to up and die.
Then my workload doubled, then I started having insomnia, then my Mom started having angina 20 times a day, then they stuck her in the hospital, now I have to go sleep in her hospital room with her so she doesn't start calling people in the middle of the night.
She also likes to get dressed at 3 a.m., wake me up and ask if I am "ready yet," but that's a whole 'nother story.
My kitten James is at that teenage boy stage now, where he's horsey and overly sensitive and thinks I am an asshole. He used to run to me when I whistled, now he just looks at me and yawns as he heads the other way. I know it's because I got him neutered, so I think he'll bear a grudge for several more months.
I have been in a funk for weeks now and it's gotten tedious.
You know life sucks when selecting a good watermelon is the highlight of the week.
The Texas heat isn't helping my funnybone, either. I could fire ceramics on my sidewalk and getting into my car mid-afternoon is like putting on a mink sweatsuit, lined in down feathers.
I have to make some changes. I need to laugh. I need to be amused. I need to be amusing.
I think it's time to turn Responsible, Serious Girl back into Bad, Funny Girl!