Not only was yesterday excellent for the obvious reasons, I also found a quarter on the ground and got to play with a wienerdog at work. I have a soft spot for old ridiculous-looking dogs, and Tinkerbell fits the bill (yeah, the name stinks of Paris Hilton — but this Tink belongs to a nun).
My new theory is this: the universe shall provide. Like, I just say “I need a job” and eventually Angi finds me one. I need an apartment — Sabrina to the rescue. I gripe about my lack of couch and suddenly a friend’s boyfriend’s parents are aching to give me one. How am I gonna move it? With my co-worker’s mom’s mini-van, of course! Recent events suggest the universe might even be taking me seriously on the whole “world peace” thing. Not sure why it’s happening, but let’s keep this train rolling; baby needs a new pair of shoes.
(Winter boots, size 8ish, preferably brown or black. Thanks.)