Okay, so the plan for this evening was to run errands. I get home from work around 6, and I wanted to go food shopping and get a haircut. Normally the food shopping takes 2 hours, between driving there, getting food, and driving back in traffic. Because of the fact that I wanted a haircut, and because a repairman was coming at 9pm and I had to be home with my car parked before then, I was cutting it really close.
6:00pm: Leave my house.
6:20pm: Finally finish cleaning the ice off my car. I thought it would've melted by then.
6:45pm: Sitting in traffic about a half-mile from my house.
7:10pm: Made it to the ATM and to the bagel place. (They only had sesame left. No variety, but at least my favorite flavor.)
So I'm running absurdly late. I should've ditched the haircut idea, but I figured it was worth a shot. I walk into the place at 7:20, and I'm told that there are 4 people in line ahead of me. But I look around and among them are two guys with short hair and one girl with long, straight hair. I stupidly decide to wait. I mean, my hair had gotten pretty bad. But I'm really worried at this point, because the Kosher counter at the market closes at 8pm, and if I'm late, I won't get a rotisserie chicken for dinner tomorrow.
They finally take me at 7:55. She takes forever to cut my hair, and I'm not done until 8:15. I'm really frustrated at this point, but it only gets better.
I fly out of there and head over to the market, entering by 8:20. As I'm running to the kosher counter, I idly note that I normally use food shopping as relaxation time. That's why I drive to a nice neighborhood rather than going to the stores around the corner, and that's why I don't rush through the market. It's the only thing I do idly for the next hour.
I grab one of the dozens of leftover chickens at the kosher counter. I weave through the market, grabbing the other 10 or 15 things I need. I find an empty checkout lane, and am out of there by 8:29.
On the drive home, I hit no traffic and every green light. My blinkers are on and I'm unloading the groceries by 8:45. I then drive around to find a parking space. Of the hundreds of spots I drive past, the first empty one is the one I'd just left a few hours earlier. It was apparently too small for anyone else. I parallel park perfectly, ending up against the curb on my first try, after only two backups. The space is about 2 feet longer than my car.
I walk home, and as I'm unlocking the door at 9:02, my cell phone rings. It's the workman; he's around the corner.
Everything was perfect. Even my hair looks decent. And since things are going so well for me tonight, maybe it's time now to start buying that computer I've been talking about.