The skin of my teeth

Tonight I blog from central New Jersey. I am at my mother's house, where it is leafy and green and where I don't have to lock my car every time I park it. The last post notwithstanding, I had a particularly pleasant day yesterday, the day of my move. The movers, the tow truck, the shipping company - they all showed up at the same time. My movers were superb; they made quick work of my apartment and somehow fit it all into a small little storage vault. The shipping company took away my stuff and sent it all out to California. I finally got my tax refund. Everything came together.

Naturally, I was suspicious. I knew my luck would have to run out. Mollybee suggested that perhaps the perfection of the move was my reward for previous karmic suffering, and that my luck, in fact, would not run out. Perhaps, but still I was suspicious.

Imagine my relief, then, when I got a frantic knock on my door this morning. It was the super, telling me to move my car before it got towed away for street cleaning. In my haste to move I had forgotten it was Thursday, my street's day for cleaning. The super told me I had gotten a ticket already (Love you, too, City of Boston), but if I hurried I could move it before the tow truck appeared.

I hustled down the stairs and whisked my car, which already had been packed for the drive to DC, away from the clutches of my favorite tow truck. With this near miss, I thought the other foot had come down.

Or had it? I had, after all, avoided the tow. Hm.