posted by dave on Thursday, September 3, 2009 at 3:37 PM in category ramblings

I'm leaving in 20 minutes. I hope to get my hairs cut today. I also hope to beat the rain that's looming. This all got me to thinking (uh-oh) about timing. It really is everything, like I keep saying.

A couple of years ago, the car carrying my nephew and his friends, and another vehicle, had the worst timing possible. If the speed of either vehicle had been different by even one mile-per-hour, what was a tragedy would have only been a close call. If either vehicle's speed had been ten miles-per-hour different, it would have been a non-event.

Unbelievably bad timing,is what that was.

In February, StupidGirl asked me to move to Las Vegas. It was a very sweet and kind offer. But I didn't go. I didn't go, because I had a relationship here in Indiana that was very important to me, and also because I had a job here. Now, I know, I also had friends and family and a house and blah blah blah, but the reasons I stayed were because of LaptopGirl and, to a much lesser extent, my job.

Two months later, my job was gone, and so was my relationship. Both had gone the way of the dodo. And StupidGirl had gone and got herself a shiny new boyfriend.

So that was certainly crappy timing. Nowhere near as crappy as the timing that my nephew and his friends experienced, but crappy nonetheless.

I could list a billion examples. Like how I met MixedSignalGirl because a deer ran in front of her car just when I happened to be driving behind her. Or how I found RockGirl because the "random journal" button at took me to her journal. Or how StupidGirl just happened to be on the rag and be my waitress on the same night.

Anyway, speaking of timing, I've got to go now. Maybe I'll finish this entry later.

comments (3)

Oh, man. Have I told you how exquisite timing made me meet my fella? It's crazy. I'll have to tell you about it sometime.

If you told me that story already, I probably blocked it out. I like to pretend that you don't have a boyfriend, and that it's only your shyness that keeps you away from here.

Maybe I'm just intimidated by your machismo and uber-sexiness and fear I might turn into a pretty little puddle in your front yard.

...and the shy thing, too, of course. ;o)

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