Happy Fairie Puppy Love

A friend of mine – let’s call him Eliphaz – says that maybe by writing this blog, by joking and laughing and making fun of the bad things that happen, I might possibly be bringing it on myself. If I would just weep and wail and gnash my teeth a little, he suggests, maybe the universe (or the house, or Satan, or whoever) would stop fucking with me.

Well, I don’t know about teeth-gnashing, but how ‘bout this:

So today…

I awoke, first of all, from eight solid hours of uninterrupted sleep to find that the sun had risen a full hour early. No gloom and doom today, not even at 4:45 a.m.!

It was warm – outside and in – so I opened the lovely old ripple-glass windows with only gentle pressure from a single finger, no slamming and swearing and breaking of thumbs for this lovely old house! On a whim I raised the screen as well, and leaned out, and when I did a little cartoon bluebird came and lighted on my finger, whistling the tune to “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning…”

I was barely surprised at that point to notice the lawn freshly sprouted with good-looking green grass – and positively rolling with fat and playful puppies!

Sitting down at the computer, I discovered that not only was everything I’d written last week positively brilliant, despite what both my conscience and my agent say, I also had somehow learned in my sleep to speak html. So I can, at long last, make this blog something deserving of the millions who read it. I'll get to that first thing tomorrow. In the meantime…

On the way to drop Johnny at work, I noticed that the car had stopped making that noise – all of those noises, in fact – and seemed to be actually manufacturing gas for itself as we drove along. How interesting.

When I got home, I (for once) remembered to put the biweekly recycling out in time, so I didn’t have to let it sit around my kitchen for another fortnight. And I certainly didn’t dump it in a bag and hide it in the bottom of the barrel with the trash. I would never do that…

After working out and showering, I stepped on the scale to find a little spring on it had gotten loose in back. I reconnected it and discovered that I weigh twenty-five pounds less than I had thought! I tried on my skinny jeans to see, and sure enough, they fit. They were baggy, even.

The mailman came while I was trying on my pants and he brought nothing but checks and periodicals – no, wait, nothing but checks from periodicals!

I went to work but was sent home after twenty minutes because, well, it’s just such a beautiful day. And I’d had the forethought to drive to work again, so I spent only four times as long on the commute as I had spent actually there (that sounds mean, but it would have been seven or eight times if I’d walked and rode the T).

When I got home there was a message from my high school (those of you who read my last post remember the letter from my high school). They said it was all a big mistake. They didn’t mean to say I owed them money – they meant to say they were naming a library after me, because they’ve heard how brilliant everything I’d written last week was…

And now I’m sitting here telling you about it – not drinking, not smoking, not shooting up or sniffing glue…

See, Eliphaz? Job never buckled either, and just look how his story turned out...