You know what I love?
I love finding things that I didn’t even know were lost.
Like the bottle of Fireball that just turned up in my freezer. I left it in there so I can find it again some other day.
It’s like finding a little pot of gold, no rainbow or leprechaun required.
Oh, it’s true. I am easily pleased. A smile. An unexpected phone call. A note. Finding things I didn’t even know I had.
Not too long ago I found a bracelet I thought I’d lost, or thrown away, decades ago. I’d apparently hidden it away so it would be safe. So safe, I couldn’t even find it myself. I was happy to see it again.
Or money in the laundry. It’s my money, and it comes out of my own pockets. Why does it always make me so happy to find it? Or the change that inevitably falls out of my pockets and rolls under the bed when I get undressed at night?
Sometimes you find people you thought were lost to you. That is even better. I’ve had several of those recently.
Books. Books also turn up unexpectedly sometimes. Books are more reliable than the people who turn up sometimes. Oh, that sounds mean. Reliable isn’t the right word, either.
Maybe books are just easier–but what isn’t easier than people?
Know what? I have some very important staring out the window to do now.
So that is what I am going to do.
Maybe I’ll have a swig of that Fireball I found…
PS
And
I just got ready for work
And found a dress that I have only worn once and promptly forgot I had.
It’s either serendipity or a sign that I have to many things around.
Or both.