Some days you have to wonder…was it worth crawling out of bed? Should I have just turned over, whined until the spouse brought me coffee, and read someone else’s crappy words? I used to have entire weeks like that, back before mortgage and marriage and kidlet. All good times come to an end.
Then you grow up. A little. Not too much. Enough.
I drove through a coffee shop the other day. Hmm. Allow me to rephrase…I motored through the drive-through of a coffee establishment and ordered a java-to-go from the squawkbox for pick-up at the window. I’ve done this many times. I bet you have too. This time I collected my order and the chipper teenager told me the nice lady in the car before mine had paid for my caffeine fix and wished me a happy day.
Huh. Creepy goodness.
I appreciate the sentiment. Events like that have happened to me in the past: parking meters upped, bridge toll offered, cheesburgers and fish filets donated. I like free stuff. I share the wealth. I passed along the creepy goodness and donated to someone else’s needy coffers. Bonus St. Peter points, I guess.
I think it does. If the strength of random acts of any kind resides in their dispersal, then increasing and decreasing the potency is contingent upon you, me, us. A thoughtful stranger bought me coffee, I doubled the goodness and donated a hunk of green to a worthy effort. Now in the great schema of balance and harmony – happy badness must come calling.
Cue the axe.
There went a character I thought would be around for thousands of words to come. Now I’m feeling like that benevolent cup-a-joe cost me a lot more than if I’d paid cold hard cash. Nevermind the book will be better, sometimes reciprocity sucks.