Three years ago, I worked for some sort of financial company. Toward the end of my run, my supervisor was abruptly fired for calling in one morning and saying he was coming in to kill five people. I wasn’t there that day, but heard about it when I turned up the next day. I found out my man had had some kind of psychic break, not totally surprising based on his usual behavior. We were instructed to be on guard in the wake of his threat. He disappeared into the Los Angeles haze. Secretly, I always assumed I was one of the five.
Yesterday, I walked into a store to buy eyeglasses and heard my name. It was psychoboss, in a blue smock with the company logo on his pocket. I froze. Please don’t be my salesman, I remember thinking. I was in a dicey mood since I had just returned a bad pair of glasses and was hoping this place could solve my problem. The problem? I couldn’t see, and seeing is one of my all-time favorite senses, so I was pretty focused on having better luck at this store.
I looked up to God for a moment and whispered very funny. I audibly heard a skyborne chuckle. I’m only messing with you because you can take it–you have a sense of humor. As usual, He was right. It’s just so wearying, I thought. I know there’s a life lesson I have to figure out, but sometimes these karmic items are so confusing that my vision blurs and I feel like napping. I have to figure this one out tomorrow.