Red Skies Tonight

Sometimes with this whole destiny thing that I blather on about all the time, I start to wonder if maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see in the details. I know there's one of those fallacies of logical arguments that's something like this, but I can't remember which one it is, and I'm too lazy to rummage through my desk right now and try to find it. But you know what I mean. Something somewhat coincidental might occur, and then I'll bend it and twist it until I can find some destinial significance therein. Sometimes I start to wonder if that's in fact what I'm doing with some of the things I assign such importance to. But not today.

I found that phone number. I found it while searching through my desk for something else, and it turned out to be scrawled on the back of the envelope that my current lease agreement is stuffed in. See, I knew I wrote it somewhere where I'd have to keep it, but I guess in the past four months I never turned that envelope over, although I bet I did know where that number was written back in November when I first moved in, and just forgot in the interim.

Anyway, I found Jen's number. Almost right away, however, I remembered the reasons why I hadn't called that number when I knew where it was. I won't go into those reasons, but if you've been reading along, especially last fall, you can probably piece them together. While turning this over in my head I started my daily fight with the internet to get myself turned on and operational, with the intent of opening my e-mail and looking for a response from a particular somebody in regards to a question I'd posed the night before. The letter was there, along with some solid, good, useful advice related to the subject I was just talking about.

Now bear with me as I squeeze the significane out. The advice, from Guinevere, was in regards to Jennifer, specific to things I'd said in this blog last week. But it came today, not one half hour after finding the phone number I was searching for. Not last week, not yesterday, but today -- at the exact time when said advice would do me the most good. And she's right (she's always right). So, the point here is that Guinevere might have once again saved me from myself, and from making what might have been a fatal mistake. I don't always listen to the good advice that I get from people, but I'm not dumb enough to ignore advice from the one friend I have who is always looking out for my best interests, nor am I dumb enough to ignore the strange way in which those two things happened to converge. I know too much to avert my eyes from the evidence. What if I'd found that phone number this past weekend? Or last week? What if the letter hadn't come until tomorrow or the next day? You can call it a coincidence. I don't think so.

I know better.