I walk a very narrow karmic line. I have mentioned this before. My line is as wide the white lie about how fetching your outfit is.
If I take home more than $5 in overpaid change from the grocery store, my car breaks down.
If I say too many nasty things about someone, the toilet overflows.
If I lie about something, I get an unexpected tax bill.
I have learned my lessons the hard way and I learned them well.
Because I HATE having my butt whipped with a cosmic willow switch.
On Monday I drove downtown to the Kinko’s. At 11:45, which is of course the most ideal time to circle the city center. But after two or three trips around the courthouse I had had enough historic downtown enjoyment and pulled into a parking garage.
I started to pull into a space, realized it was too small, but a wonderfully helpful man in a silver luxury car had edged up behind me to cheer me on. Unable to back up, I inched forward to get out of his way. This was when I heard an ominous sound.
You know, the sound of a side panel being bent in.
Drat! I cried (Sometimes I really hate writing a PG blog.)
By this time, helpful luxury car man had moved along to assist other potential parking victims and I could back up.
To the sound of a side panel unbending.
I looked out my window at the car next to me, saw only a small speck of paint, so moved along to find a more suitable place to park. My side panel had a white scrape and a dent. Crud! (This is really getting ridiculous.)
I let Kinko’s take care of all my copying needs (by which I mean I took care of all my copying needs and then paid them money) and strolled back to the garage to pay the city for kindly loaning me the pavement upon which to park my car.
At this time, I got a good look at the car I had wedged my vehicle against.
HUGE scrape and HUGE dent.
Jiminy Crickets! cried I. (Ok, I am one exclamation away from giving in.)
I stood in the parking garage looking at the dented, scraped fender. I thought about insurance claims, and body repair shops (I’m sorry…do they fill in scratches with 14k gold now? Is that it?) and I sighed heavily and walked over to the car.
I left a note with my number, used my phone to take a picture of the damage and walked, head sagging, back to my own car to call Himself. (Coming soon on IPoMP: Himself vs. The Evil Garage Door.)
I then spent the afternoon staring at my phone, waiting. Would they be angry? Would they criticize my handwriting? Would they claim my scrape caused their stereo to stop working?
When the call finally came, I didn’t hear it. I got a message instead.
“Hi, this is Callie, from the 3rd Street parking garage. I want to thank you for leaving your note about the scratch. That’s really nice, most people wouldn’t do that any more. But that giant dent in the bumper has been there for ages! I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me. Thanks again for the note, but don’t worry about it.”
Imagine me sitting in my car, staring at my phone, blinking.
Now, let’s all be clear here: If I had NOT left a note, the universe would have guaranteed that the scratch had been administered to a pristine vehicle with an angry owner, who would have demanded security tapes to track me down leading to a confrontation with policemen at my door accusing me of fleeing the scene of an accident where my distraction would allow my hostile cat to launch himself at said policemen, and I would have been thrown in jail for resisting arrest and assaulting a law enforcement agent with a domestic animal.
Because I walk a very narrow karmic line.
But I walk that line out of fear – that if I screw up I get my knuckles rapped.
But it seems that if I walk that line because it is the right thing to do, things can also go my way.
Thank you, Callie.
Programming note: The lovely Pua at Dino Mom had Pursey Galore over the weekend and took her on a lovely trip to the Pumpkin Patch! Read about it here!