unsettled

This week has been a hodgepodge of strange and unsettling experiences that I could otherwise have done without. I’d say I don’t believe in things like luck or jinxes, but then I would have to remind myself, “Oh, hey, remember that time you said it had been ages since you got food poisoning and then three days later, there you were, in the fetal position on the bathmat crying that you didn’t want to die in the bathroom like Elvis?” Let’s just say the week got off to really rough start, and had me questioning my belief in mysterious cosmic forces. I’m not really great at take-away lessons, though, so it’s fairly safe to assume I’ll make a similarly stupid statement about how smoothly wedding planning is going or how financially, things are looking promising and then the Universe will remind me that I’m not in charge.

Tuesday was Die Like a Celebrity Day and Wednesday found us huddled among pillows inside an interior closet while a tornado touched down a couple miles from our apartment. It was a little unnerving and a little more real than I’d have liked. Again, the Universe’s way of saying, “You’re not in charge, Toots.” I’m not sure what would have gone down should that tornado have actually chosen our home as its target – that interior closet happens to be where we keep everything heavy and or sharp edged. We are awfully clever that way.

Thursday afternoon I was standing in the lobby of our office building, which happens to be a one-story, adapted industrial building (in a predominantly industrial neighborhood) with a glass front door. I looked up from my conversation to see a massive span of feathers headed our way. A hawk. He was glorious. And chasing a blackbird. Within milliseconds, it went from Oooh, hawk! to BAM! as the blackbird hit the glass and fell to the concrete. I threw open the door and got to my knees to render aid, thinking the poor creature was probably just stunned. I realized all too soon that its neck was broken and as it gasped out its last breaths I crouched there on the cement, helplessly stroking its iridescent black breast until it stopped rising. Then I tucked it away under a hedge at the edge of the property. The sweet receptionist was worried it could have given me some bird disease. I was worried it might have broken my heart.

This morning, as I pulled into the gated parking lot at the office (it’s gated for a very good reason – the neighborhood is not exactly gentrified (see the bit about it being industrial) and our small building has been the target of looting and vandalism more times than anyone is comfortable with) I watched in the rear view mirror as a pair of folks tried to scurry in behind me. Oh HELL no, I said, shutting off the radio and reaching for my cell phone. The gate closed in time, thankfully and I got out reluctantly, prepared for a confrontation. Which they readily gave me. One wanted his ring back. I don’t have any ring, I told him. Yes, it’s right there, he pointed, right inside the gate. Let me come in and get it.

Uh, huh, why don’t I just go ahead and do that.

“How did it get there?” I asked.

“It, uh, the uh, gate took it.”

“The gate took it. That’s a pretty shady story, dude. How’d that happen?” How’s about when you tried to get in and scared the bejeezus out of me, eh?