I have nothing exciting to say today so I’ll just share a little story.
(Remember story time, in grade school? It was just about this time of the morning, 10:30, when you needed a little snack and a rest to make it through to lunch. So grab some animal crackers and settle in. Comfortable? Okay.)
Yesterday, I went shopping and bought myself this little Chinese character pendant and a chain to put it on. Supposedly, the character stands for Luck, but you just never know. At any rate, it was pretty, I liked it, I bought it. (This is the summary for most of my shopping experiences.)
I took my Lucky charm necklace home and was in my bathroom trying to work the clasp, which was totally stubborn. (Of course I picked the chain with the non-working clasp, that’s just my Luck. See a theme here?) Anyway, so while I’m messing with it, all in one instant, my hand slips, the charm pops off and slides across the counter, to the sink, down the drain. Whoosh! Just like that. I mean, if I’d tried to make such a clean shot into the drain it never would have happened.
I said, “No!” and ran over to look down the drain, like it might be in there in some sort of limbo, which of course it was not. Same deal when I tried to reach in: gone.
Which led me to open the cabinet under the sink, take everything out, and unscrew part of the plumbing. Water flows out over everything, goes everywhere. I quickly screw the plumbing back together (cursing loudly) and then go outside to take deep breaths and think about what the universe is trying to teach me while waiting for my husband, the Solver of All Household Problems, to come home.
Long story made a bit shorter: when he did get home, he cut off the water (aha!), unscrewed the plumbing and dumped the little piece of pipe called a trap (obvious reasons) into the sink (drain closed, thank you.) And there was my little lucky charm. Silty, but okay.
Because I must find Meaning in All Things I said, “See! It is lucky! Maybe it just needed to prove to me it was, so I’d know for sure.”
My husband just looked at me, with the tired yet bemused expression I always get when I bombard him with household stuff the instant he comes in the door. “Maybe,” he conceded, then went off in search of something to eat. I put on my necklace and wore it all night. It does feel more special to me now, for some reason.
So that’s my story. It’s a bit dinky, but it’s mine, so I’m happy with it. And now, see, we’ve all had a few quiet moments before moving on to the next part of our day. Sometimes, that’s all I want from a story anyway. Don’t you?