Streams of serendipity

Often in my life, I am struck crispy by the interconnected coincidences of a string of events. For example, today I had a gigantic box containing a 42 inch LCD television sitting in my living room waiting for the UPS man to come and take it away because it was broken. There were certain qualities and conditions of preparedness that were necessary for this box to go out into the world. One was a little tiny piece of paper that had a return authorization number on it—without that they would neither take the box nor refund back the $812.07 that had previously been charged to my credit card. The other was an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper with many numbers (order number, return authorization number, etc.) and my signature (required!!). At the moment my string of coincidences begins, this important sheet of paper is inside the box, however it is not signed. I might know this somewhere in the recesses of my mind, but at present, I am not aware of it. So I am standing at the window looking out searching for the UPS man who will take this away and clear up my living room when my back starts to itch. I ignore it for a second but the itch gets worse. So I walk over to the kitchen drawer where I keep my backscratcher. I own no less than three backscratchers—one resides in my desk drawer at work. It is very possible that I would have chosen the backscratcher that resides in my desk drawer in my office and just resigned myself to go sit down and try to reach Eric on googlechat one more time. However, this was not the case. I choose the one in the kitchen. I open the drawer, dig around through packing tape and scissors to reveal the bamboo length of abrasive sweet relief. While scratching away, I look pensively at the scissors and tape and a whole series of tumblers goes off in my head. I wonder if I forgot to sign that piece of paper that said “signature required!!!” So I place the backscratcher back in the drawer, grab scissors, tape and pen and head over to the box, fighting off the playful advances of both Mewbert and Turtle. I cut open the taped box and lo and behold, not signed after all! I sign the paper, tuck it nicely inside the box and put the supplies away thinking this would make an excellent initial blog entry into the way my mind works. If I had not signed that paper, the sons of bitches over at tigerdirect would have likely not taken that damaged TV nor refunded my money. Then we would have an angry blog entry. Now, we (you and me punkrock girl) await the happy blog about putting the freshly shipped unbroken TV up on the TV stand.

Hope you enjoy like me!