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Tag Archives: fate

Global Warming Of The Brain

29 Sep

September 29, 2018

I had a conversation with a coworker today.

COWORKER: Wow! Did you see all that rain this morning?
ME: Uh huh.

You may already notice that I am not holding up my end of the conversation. That’s because I was clearly and obviously writing a report when this inspiring talk began.

COWORKER: I couldn’t believe it. It was coming down like cats and dogs.
ME: Yeah, it was bad.

I said that without looking up as I continued to type. I hoped she would get the hint.

COWORKER: I wonder if it is raining in North Carolina.

This gave me pause. Was she about to hop on a flight to Raleigh? I slowed my typing just a bit, looked up, and said-

ME: North Carolina?
COWORKER: You know, where they had the hurricane. Can you imagine if it rained after a hurricane. They had enough rain to last!
ME: Oh. (Back to typing.)
COWORKER: I bet it was supposed to be sunny today.
ME: Huh?
COWORKER: You know. The original plan.

No, I did not know. I am not privy to whatever plans she was speaking of. Were they classified? Were they plans made by God? Who was it that had made plans for it to be sunny today? Does Mother Nature have a file I don’t know about? And am I in it?

ME: Whose original plan?
COWORKER: Nature. Or God. Whichever one is in charge of the weather. I bet when the season began and they mapped out the weather this was supposed to be sunny. We had a lot of rain recently so I’m sure this was a going to be a sunny day.

To save us both a little time, let me explain what it took me precious minutes and even more precious brain cells to get out of her. You see, at the beginning of every season (Winter, Summer, Fall, Spring, and Autumn, in that order according to her) the weather forces are mapped out by Nature and/or God (I never pinned her down on that) for the next few months. The temperature each day is planned. Weathermen figured it all out. That’s why the Farmer’s Almanac can tell you years in advance when to plant crops. And, she said conspiratorially, there’s big money in being a weatherman.

I can get behind the idea of a Mother Nature like this.

Well, I’m an educated man. At one point I was on the track to a career in science. (That’s true. No sarcasm here.) I understand what drives weather patterns and I can tell you, unequivocally, that Mother Nature does not sit down and over tea and scones with God write out in her little black book the temperature and humidity for every day of the year.

But to her point, if today was originally penciled in by the Theoi Meteoroi to be a sunny day, why was it raining?

COWORKER: Global warming. It ruins every nice day. This was going to be a sunny day but someone gave it a shot of global warming and all the plans went to pot.

Ah. I see. But what I said was-

ME: I don’t think it works that way.
COWORKER: Sure it does. Why do you think they had that hurricane last week? Global warming keeps creating these hurricanes and pretty soon there will be nothing left on Earth except all these hurricanes we keep having and volcanoes.

Say what you want about global warming, it isn’t germane to this blog, but global warming has been blamed for making stronger hurricanes, not creating them. By a total coincidence, I came across an article just the day before which stated just that, and I brought it up online (saving my report because I never was going to go back and finish it at this rate) and showed her.

COWORKER: I don’t have time to read that.

Yes, just like I didn’t have time for this conversation.

So to recap, fairies put nuts in chocolate bars and nice weather is all mapped out in advance by Mother Earth but we get rain because “someone” injects global warming into the atmosphere without warning.

You learn something new every day.

 

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The Agent of Fate

22 Mar

March 22, 2018

My real estate agent called me the other day. “Hey! I got an apartment that’s perfect for you. It’s right in your price range!” The last apartment he said was right in my price range was $500 per month above my price range so I was not excited by this call.

I’ve seen a lot of apartments lately. They ranged from awful (the mailboxes were all broken into and some were hanging open while others were shut with padlocks) to amazing (enclosed terrace, recessed lighting) yet somehow they were all “perfect” and “right in my price range.”

But I agreed to see this one. Hey, one really does have to be prefect and right in my price range, right?

This is a stock photo. The real thing was worse.

Agent: “Can you come tomorrow? Meet me at the office at noon.”
Me: “Ok, tomorrow noon.”
Agent: “You’ll be there, right? At noon?”
Me: “I’ll be there. At your office at noon.”
Agent: “Call me if you can’t make it.”
Me: “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
Agent: “Noon.” [Hangs up]

This all stems from the fact that a couple of weeks ago I made an appointment with him to see a place, then something came up and I called to reschedule. He said he was unable to reschedule, so I moved some stuff around and went to the appointment at the original, agreed upon time. I made exactly two phone calls to the realtor about two hours apart, two days before the time we were scheduled to see the place. Not exactly a big deal, yet now every time he wants to show me a place he treats me like I’m completely unreliable.

So the next day came. I live a short ten minute walk from the real estate office but I left early so as not to give any illusion that I may be no-showing and got there ten minutes early. The office was closed and locked. More upsetting, there was a drunk sitting in the entrance to the pharmacy next door. This used to be a really nice, upper-middle class area. Not so much anymore.

I called the agent. “Hey, I’m here, at your office. There’s no one here. Are you coming?”
Agent: “I’m five minutes away. You’re at the office?”
Me: [Exasperated] “Yes, I am standing right in front of your office watching a drunk trying to figure out why his bottle is empty in the doorway next door.”
Agent: “Maybe he drank it all. See you in five minutes. At the office.” [Hangs up]

He really did arrive in five minutes, almost to the second. The drunk still had not figured out where his liquor went and was checking his pockets to see if they were wet.

The agent pulled up, a little too fast, came to a short stop in front of a fire hydrant and got out of the car. “I have to make a call. Watch my car!” He ran into the office. I stood next to his car, asking myself if a policeman tried to give it a ticket, what did he expect me to do? But it didn’t matter since he was out in a minute and we both got inside.

Agent: “I can show you the house, but I can’t take you back to the office.”

This was perfectly fine with me. The apartment we were seeing was closer to my house than the office so I had already planned to walk home from the viewing.

Agent: “I just spoke to my wife. She is very sick. I have to take her to the doctor.”
Me: “Oh.”

The agent was very apologetic. We had to make it fast, but he got me all the way out here (he said) and he wanted me to see the place. Then a call came in and he put it on speaker. It was the homeowner.

Homeowner: “So sorry to do this but I have to cancel. I’m stuck in Jersey and I can’t get out there today.”  That’s exactly what the agent thought I was going to do. But OK, we understand. “Come tomorrow. I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”

Then another call came in, this time the agent didn’t put it on speaker. And when he was done:

Agent: “My wife is even sicker. I have to take her to the emergency room.”
Me: “Ok, let me out here, I’ll walk home.” We had only gone a single block.
Agent: “No, I’ll take you home.”

I was very worried that this would turn out like the Seinfeld episode where George ends up with Mr. Peterson’s mother on her death bed so I said no, no, I’ll get out right here, thank you very much.

Agent: “I got you all the way out here so I’ll take you home.” He was strangely insistent about taking me home while his wife was very sick and he had to rush her to the emergency room. But as luck would have it, things finally went my way. The street we were driving down was completely closed ahead for construction and the detour took us away from my house. There was a red light at the corner and when the car stopped I opened the door, said thanks for the ride, and got out. Quickly.

Agent: [Through the window] “You are a good guy! Maybe we’ll see the house tomorrow!”

The next day he didn’t call. I wonder if his wife is OK.

 

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