Yesterday a man who likes me saw me coming and swept the door open with a flourish. I'm easily charmed. Yesterday I overheard what the black man in the Pink Floyd tshirt (?!) said about me, though I was not supposed to hear it. It was in my favor. And I was called dollface by a man with an accent. And at my friends' house when it was time to say goodbye people had a hard time really leaving because there was still so much to say about foods and television and the million things we love together. And when I bought a small packet of herbs, the clerk, Ibrahim, did not hand me my purchase but offered it gently in his cupped hands, for me to take, like a gift.
For these reasons, when I saw the weathered playing card face-down on the floor of the public library, I did not even have to think about whether it was for me. I swept it up and kept moving. It was a good one. There are days where I feel I deserve the avalanche of charm that finds me, that keeps finding me.
A while back I was walking down a sidewalk doing errands before a date, and on top of my sudden realization that I was not nervous in the slightest, I also realized the strange new gesture I had just performed. As I walked, my messenger bag had migrated around behind me, and I adjusted it back to my side, my thought process being, with the return of the Good Ass (plus some magical pants), it seemed unfair to deprive fellow pedestrians of the view. That is seriously what I actually thought in my brain. As I flushed with embarrassment my heel caught on a crack and I went windmilling into a crazy balance-catching tiptoe stagger which was 100% captured by the delighted film crew I happened to be passing. I will never be professionally smug. I keep myself in check or the world does it for me. So I guess I am doing ok.