It’s another hot day, but less hot and we’re supposed to get rain this afternoon. One weather app says “thunderstorms;” the other says “light rain.”
We’ll see who wins, but right now, it’s not looking like rain at all. Well, maybe a few clouds.
This morning, as I was getting dressed, I thought that today I could use a little luck. Not for anything specific, not for anything in particular, just a little luck.
And then I made my breakfast, an open-faced fried egg sandwich on half a bagel, slowly, methodically. Egg, bagel, goat cheese, assemble.
And I was carrying it, carefully, to my plate.
When it took a dive.
SPLAT.
Face down, of course, as there’s no other way for such a thing to land. At least right now, eggs are, at best, questionable, so I’ve been cooking the yolks more firmly than I would.
What a mess.
What choice did I have but to wipe it all up, warm goat cheese splattered on the floor and and the cabinets, toss it in the trash with a sigh, and start again?
So much for that luck.
Perhaps the universe saw it less as a request and more as a challenge. Not the most reassuring thought.
But eventually, I recreated the sandwich as best I could, I’ve eaten it, and it was still delicious, even if I had a tiny bitter taste left over.
If my morning wanted to be a metaphor, it could have been one a little less on the nose for the world right now. We were so close, so close to having it all on our plate.
Yet it slipped off the spatula.
What choice do we have but to wipe it all up, toss it in the trash with a sigh and start again?
As my breakfast said, loud and clear, close isn’t close enough.
Also maybe today isn’t the day for me to buy a lottery ticket.
Anyway, on that note, I will go off into the day, still hoping that little bit of luck finds me. But maybe not too loudly. You can only clean so many fried egg sandwiches off the floor.
Have a great Tuesday.
A Bit to Read 
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