How do you know for certain that the universe is sending you a message?
Sure, the universe actually sending me that invitation to spend the evening toasting to George Clooney could be considered a sign– but who can blame me for missing something that subtle… for three weeks.
Besides (warning, wild justification to follow) if the universe really wanted me to be with George on Friday then it would have made him motor his little electric car to my apartment and picked me up for a proper date. I’m a lady, damnit.
(No, I’ve never been hospitalized for delusions. Why do you ask?)
The last few days have been busy between work, side projects and the need to read every single line in every piece of junk mail that comes to the apartment. But I was feeling adventurous this afternoon. I did have the malicious iPod with me, but it was behaving. It was time to head out and flirt.
I was looking good, well.. my sweatshirt was clean, and I was rockin the messy ponytail.
Having not yet learned the lessons of my other Starbuck encounters (yes, the knee has healed, thanks!) I decided to find the man who would love me “just the way I am”. And I found several– all construction workers, because…
(wait for it)
They gutted the Starbucks.
Huh… Given my track record, I probably should have seen this coming.
I can’t decide if the universe is saving me from myself, or clearing out all the bad vibes with fire and table saws. I suppose we’ll find out when they re-open (MWHAA HAA HAAA).
(p.s. random thought– is it wrong that I think the Ex’s fiance already has the something borrowed covered? yeah, I thought so.)