Just Changing

Every morning I wake up one minute before my alarm goes off. The first thing I do is roll over to cancel said alarm before the siren blares, giving me the worst migraine a person could possibly imagine. 

I take a moment to wake up, rubbing my eyes and stretching a bit. After all, it feels good to get moving after a full 8 hours of sleep. This is the second thing I do every morning. 

Next on the list is opening the drapes. I look out the window and onto the roofs of the other old buildings in town. I see the ocean in the distance and can nearly hear the sound of its waves. 

And then I notice the weather: the weather that so happens to be perfect for that day. If I wanted an outdoor wedding to be inside, it would be rainy. If I wanted to go for a run, it would be sunny. If I wanted an aesthetic day in a coffee shop, it would be foggy. The weather had not interrupted my plans for a long while. 

From there I dress accordingly, eat accordingly, and think accordingly to what the rest of my day looks like. 

And through this morning routine that I experience every single day, I never hear dogs barking or loud construction, my phone doesn’t ring unless I expect it to, I don’t spill coffee on my blouse, I don’t discover a leaky faucet, I don’t step in a puddle of water while wearing socks. I never leave home too soon or too late. My internet connection is always stable. I get the same amount of sleep every night. I never walk to my car to find I am out of gas or that my vehicle had been broken into. The stoplights are always green, my lane of traffic always moves fastest, I never get cut off or pulled over. I never have to work longer than I want to and don’t need to attend events I don’t want to. I never burn food. I don’t get sick. I never wake up hungover. The weddings go smoothly. My clients are happy. 

Every day. This perfect rhythm has occurred nonstop for as long as I can remember. It has been at least a few weeks. 

It became so extreme that I started to test my good luck. I would try to change this odd routine that ruled my life, but I was never able to. No matter how hard I tried, I kept having good luck. 

Every. Single. Day. 

I should be happy, right? Most people would kill for just one day like mine. Where everything is flawless. Where everything gets off to a good start and ends the same way, over and over and over. 

Well, to be honest, this was a curse. The best curse anyone could receive, but a curse nonetheless. 

Simply enough, it gets old. You stop planning for contingencies because you know there won’t be any. You stop having anything to talk about that doesn’t make you sound like a privileged jerk. You know exactly how your day begins and ends, and you lose any sense of adventure or wonder. You long for curiosity and fall into a never-ending pattern of perfection. 

But, this seemingly immaculate routine made me develop a theory. 

“Let me tell you if this makes sense,” I shared with my best friend and assistant, Tara, one day while we were helping clean up a wedding venue, “I think every person has the same amount of good luck.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically. She might not have been convinced yet, but she always loved to hear my crazy ideas about what made the world go ‘round. She loved to debate them and prove how I could be wrong. It was one reason why we were such good friends. 

“Hold on, this is going somewhere,” I said, encouraging her to be patient while we started folding tablecloths. “I think each person’s luck is spread out in different ways. I might hit every green light, and you might hit every red one.” Tara scoffed with envy. She always made me drive because of this. “But, you go home to your dog acting all cute and your husband making you dinner. I just go home.” 

“That almost makes sense. Go on.” 

“Your daily luck is in the form of living things, like your dog and your husband. My luck is in the form of sequences, or daily routines, or whatever you want to call them, because I don’t have anyone or anything special,” I said. It sounded much sadder than I had intended, but she didn’t seem to notice. 

She pondered the theory. “That would mean my husband and dog have the same amount of luck as your perfect days do.” She took a moment more to contemplate the idea. “So you’re saying that everyone has the same amount of good luck, it’s just placed differently every day?” 

“Sure. I don’t trip on my own shoelace, and you are married to a hottie. Seems fair, right?” 

Tara laughed. “I am married to a hottie, but don’t sell yourself short. You have had these perfect days for so long...” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to imagine what it would be like to live as I had been for weeks on end. 

“Because I don’t have all of the things that you have,” I said with a smile. 

“I guess we’re both lucky.”

“The same amount of lucky.” 

We chuckled and went back to work. 

At that moment, I became jealous of Tara. If my childlike idea were true, I would much rather sleep a little less than normal and wake up with a dog jumping on my bed than sleep the same amount every day and wake up to a dark and empty room. 

But it was just an idea, after all. I shouldn't have taken it so seriously. 

This always happened, and I should have known better. I always came up with some outrageous explanation for whatever was going on in my life at that time. I would fixate on that idea and how it could solve my problems. 

I wasn’t going to do that again. It was for the best that I was done with crazy ideas and explanations, truly. I needed to find peace with what I had. I needed to learn to be happy with good luck. 

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A few weeks later, I still experienced the same good luck every day. The streak had gone from weeks to a few months. 

I was starting to wonder if this was going to be the rest of my life. The same process… it was a bit depressing. I mean, I had tried to change it. To make my day bad. But it wasn’t possible. It always turned out the same way, with me alone, and started the same way, with me alone, the next day. 

Maybe I wouldn’t be like Tara, with the happy little family. I would simply just have my lucky routine. 

I quickly decided that that was enough of an existential crisis for the night. I rolled over and picked up my phone to check the time. 10:05 p.m. It was five minutes past when I normally went to bed. 

No matter. I would wake up the next morning at 6:05, then. I would get my 8 hours, like always. And this time, I would be thankful for it. Even if I wished my luck were different. I took a deep breath and went to sleep. 

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I woke the next morning to the glorious sensation of the sun on my face. I could see its bright rays peeking through my drapes. Still, it was odd to feel the sun on my face while lying in bed. 

And then I realized- why was I feeling the warmth of sunlight? It was 6:05 in the morning; the sun wasn’t up. 

I checked my phone. 7:45. Holy guacamole. 

I could have jumped up and down. Something finally changed from my neverending good luck. 

And then I remembered why the alternative was called ‘bad’ luck. I was late. I had a meeting with a client in 45 minutes. 

I quickly got in the shower. It was too hot. And then too cold. And then too hot. 

I tried to blow my hair dry and the power went off. 

I tried to put my soaking wet hair in a bun, and the hair tie snapped. I got another tie but at this point there were strands of hair protruding left right and center. I had to start over. 

I couldn't find any bobby pins. Where were my bobby pins? 

I checked the time and relaxed a bit. I definitely couldn’t read the news or go for a run this morning but I was not going to be late. Yet. 

I hurriedly fixed my hair until it was good enough, changed clothes, and looked in the mirror. A new stain on my pants that I hadn’t noticed. A new zit on my forehead. 

To disguise such a zit, I needed makeup. However, somehow, I put on the ugliest makeup look I ever had. The eyeliner was hideous. The shades didn’t look right. 

It was probably because the power was out and I could barely see what I was doing. 

I checked the time again. I would have to forget about the makeup. I needed to go. 

I went to the kitchen to grab a bagel, but I was out of bagels. And out of cereal. And bananas. And I couldn’t make much of anything else because the power was out. 

I forgot about breakfast. I wasn’t that hungry anyway. 

I grabbed my purse and everything fell out of it. I scrambled to pick it all up and stubbed my toe on a bookshelf in the process. 

I walked out the door and shortly ran right back inside. Shoes. I needed shoes. I put on the first thing I could find and was out the door. 

I sprinted to my car. The parking garage was quite busy. Everyone was leaving for work. I passed by lots of people rushing around like I was. 

I couldn’t find my car. Where did I park? 

After running in a complete circle around the entire garage I found my car. I hopped in and started it, and sure enough, my tire pressure sensor came on. 

I jumped out and saw that a tire was flat. 

I took my phone out of my purse to call Tara to come get me. But my phone was now dead. 

I was on the verge of a breakdown. After ages of the same routine, when everything goes right, it is apparently quite the shock when everything doesn’t. 

I would have to walk. The meeting place was just down the street, anyway. I hoped that the new clients were patient. 

I walked out of the parking garage to find that it was pouring rain. Lovely. 

I dashed down the street and every single pedestrian crosswalk was not only red when I got there but also took ages to change. 

In my hurry, I bumped into a passing businessman and his phone fell on the ground. I could hear the screen crack. 

“Are you kidding me? I just bought this!” he screamed. “What are you doing, bumping into people like that? Don’t you watch where you’re going?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I said, retreating slowly. I could still hear him shouting at me as I ran away. 

I finally got to the cafe and hurriedly looked around for a young couple. I didn’t see anyone matching their description and decided to get in line to order something when I noticed Tara at a table in the corner. I darted over to her and left watery footprints in my trail. 

“Hi,” I greeted Tara. I couldn’t say much of anything else. 

“Good Lord! You look horrendous!” I could feel her staring at my zit, then at my drooping eyeliner, then at the stain on my pants that I had forgotten about. And at the fact that I looked like a wet rat. 

“Thank you,” I said, plopping down in the booth beside her. “Where’s Tim and Julie?” 

“I called you, like, six times and you didn’t answer. I was actually really worried about you. They canceled this morning because Julie got sick.” 

“Oh. Okay.” I was so flustered. So much had happened already, and the day had just begun. 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Tara asked with genuine concern. “I never beat you to meetings and I have been here for at least 15 minutes. Why are you late?”

“I’m fine. Rough morning,” I admitted with a chuckle. 

“You finally running out of luck?” she asked me, smirking. 

“I guess so.” 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“No, I kinda just want to sit here for a minute. I think I need to calm down.” 

“Okay. I have somewhere to be, so I’ll leave you to it. You sure you’re okay?” 

I sighed and met her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, still concerned about me but content enough to leave. 

As soon as she was out the door I let my head drop onto the tabletop. I slammed it up and down a few times. I started sniffling heavily and was worried I might begin to cry. 

What a morning. 

I suppose I was creating more of a ruckus than I thought because some guy walked over to my table. 

“Are you okay?” he asked sincerely. 

I lifted my head, embarrassed. I wiped my eyes and sniffled some more. “I’m sorry, I must be quite noisy. I’ll get going in a moment.” I tried to gather enough dignity to stand and leave. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” He stood there awkwardly. “May I sit?” 

I was uncomfortable but gestured to the open chair on the other side of the table. 

“You look terrible,” he said, not in a rude way, but gently. 

“So I’ve heard.” I wiped my eyes again and laughed painfully. “You know, I have had the worst morning. I stubbed my toe, the power went out, I haven’t eaten a thing, I was late, my phone died, my tire was flat, it is pouring rain…” my voice started to trail off. I’m sure I sounded crazy. 

“You want to know something?” 

He looked at me so purely that I wasn’t afraid of him. Which was unusual, because if any other random man sat down at my table and asked me questions, I would be quite frightened. But he had a bit of a reassuring presence. 

“What?” 

“I had a terrible morning too. I woke up to a jackhammer right outside my window and couldn’t go back to sleep. I spilled jelly all over my tie, and I slipped in some water on the floor while I tried to clean that off. My internet went down in the middle of an online meeting, so I had to come in to work. While I was driving there, I not only got cut off a million times, but I hit every red light too!” 

I laughed. “So did you not make it to work in time?” I asked, wondering why he was in a cafe when it sounded like he should have been in a meeting. 

“I actually just got fired, if you can believe it. Not because I was late today but because of overstaffing.” He shrugged it off and smiled, seemingly unharmed. 

“I’m sorry, that really sucks.” 

“It does a little bit. I mean, I really liked the job, but it just wasn’t meant to be.” He paused, trying to figure out what to say next. “I guess it’s all right though, because now I have a free rest of the day, and I got to meet you here!” He was very enthusiastic. 

We both laughed. “Misery does love company,” I said. 

“I’m sorry that you had such a bad morning,” he offered. He was so obviously warmhearted and charming. 

“Well, I’m sorry you had the same,” I told him. “It seems like we both have some bad luck today.”

“Bad luck? No. Well, yes, we both had a wretched start to the day. But I don’t think it’s bad luck. I just think the luck is somewhere else.” 

I thought back to my theory from weeks ago. That everyone had the same amount of good luck every day, it just presented itself in different ways. 

My perfect luck wasn’t running out today. It was just changing. 

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”