I remember one morning. I was laying on the couch reading with Penny curled up on my feet. The morning was slowly sleeping by. It must had been just before nine. I’d been working on my extra large cup of coffee for about an hour while I read this graphic novel I was determined to finish before lunch. Then the realization that this is my morning just seized me. Everything was almost perfect in my life. I worked at a library where I had access to thousands upon thousands of books just waiting to be shelved but also read by me. My apartment was amazing and everything I could have ever dreamed. The people at work were nice. The city had been nice. It’d been on two weeks since I moved to New Orleans.
An overwhelming dread still creeped upon me. What about cosmic balance? The thought that just because I had so many great things going for me meant that something awful must happen to balance it out. Seemed legit, I knew that I could probably find instances from before. I mean, all relationships are perfect and blissful at first, but they all come to an end. I was single so that example was easy. My father was ill so would the universe be interested in him? What about my infant niece? Or anyone close to me. How, I thought, I wouldn’t give everything up just to ensure that a great life for me would not mean someone else’s suffered.
Is that really how the universe works? I knew all I had to do was sit back, drink my coffee, go to work, enjoy the scenery, and wait to see what it brought me. Because as we know, bull shit gets delivered every day.