TUE
Something happened today.
My car battery died at almost exactly the wrong time and somehow the morning still worked.
I had an appointment with Jody at Ignite. I had been up late getting material ready. I finished printing with maybe five minutes to spare. I went out to the car, turned the key, and nothing useful happened.
I had left the lights on overnight.
Of course I had.
There are moments when reality appears to have studied your calendar.
Luckily Lynda’s car was right beside mine. I got a boost. I got going. I drove into town expecting that now, obviously, I would be the late one arriving flustered while everybody else waited.
Then I reached the building and Jody was late too.
We arrived at the front door at the same time.
I was three minutes late.
Three minutes.
After the printing. The dead battery. The boost. The drive. All that internal drama about timing.
Three minutes.
I loved the absurdity of it.
The morning could have become evidence that I am disorganized, that I always sabotage myself, that the universe was warning me not to go, or any of the other elaborate stories a brain can construct before breakfast.
Instead, what happened was simpler.
I left the lights on.
The battery died.
Lynda’s car was there.
I got a boost.
Jody was also late.
We met at the door.
Reality was much less interested in my narrative than I was.
That was the treat.
A problem can feel enormous while it is unresolved and then become almost comically small in the rearview mirror.
Three minutes.
Sometimes scale accuracy arrives after the fact.
