Smelling Like Roses

Feeling like a sort of Cosmic Gigolette today. It sure seems that every time the spit hits the fan, I get to duck, and every time I'm down to nothing, something or somebody shows up to rescue my ass. This week, I was down to nothing- 4 bucks in the bank and some odd change around the house. Fine, I thought, I don't need anything. There's food in the house and the cat has backup supplies. Next week is payday, no big deal.

Then I got an email. I'd won an ebay auction that I not only forgot about, but never thought I'd win because of the low bid I'd made. A 1974 UK Circus magazine. I bid the minimum, 4 dollars. And there was 4 dollars' shipping. Okay, so now I'm 4 bucks short.

This is when it's good to have a best friend with a few bucks available who lives within walking distance of the bank. Stevil covered me. Thank you Stevil. I'll leave you the mag in my Will and pay you back next week when you come to lunch.

Yesterday I realized I'd run out of coffee long before next Tuesday. Fine, I thought, I'll just have to cut down before then and drink tea when the coffee runs out. Then the mail came. And the Cosmos had my back in the form of a $25 card to Price Chopper, which I'd won for filling out a survey. So Friday, when Gal Friday comes, there will be coffee.

This has happened so many times in many ways over the years that I can't remember when it started. My dear late friend Kevin once said, "I dunno. The shit hits the fan but you always come up smelling like roses." I took that as my sort of personal motto.

For these Moments of Cosmic Grace, I am truly grateful.