I think I might be psychic.
It all started Sunday night, when Jason and I were talking about getting rid of our satellite to save money. The next day, all of our programs failed to tape due to "lost signal". It was as if the satellite dish had heard us talking about getting rid of it, and was expressing its disgust. (Either that, or the dish was protesting the new actor playing Michael on General Hospital, which is just ridiculous.) Weird, right?
I chalked it up to coincidence and went on with my week. On my way in to work on Tuesday, a bird flew in to my car. My first thought was "Oh, gross, I hope it's not stuck in the grill." People kept flashing their headlights at me, confirming it was indeed impaled to my bumper, but I kept swerving all over the road and eventually it fell off and I ran over it. My second thought was "thank goodness it wasn't a deer!"
Later that day, my friend Kathy called me and told me her roommate's daughter had hit a deer that very day. Eerie, I thought, and promptly forgot about it.
On Wednesday night, I had a vivid dream about Teddy Kennedy. He was applying for a job where I work. The very next morning, I went to a seminar on health care reform, one of Kennedy's champion causes. Sure, this could be chalked up to the fact that I just finished reading True Compass, Teddy's autobiography, and I was well aware of the topic of the next day's seminar. But those answers seem a little too easy to me. It is entirely more plausible that there were some psychic elements going on.
Thursday night, I couldn't figure out what to make for dinner, and then the cat power-vomited all over the kitchen floor, which made me realize I was totally in the mood for scrambled eggs. While I was cooking, and Jason was cleaning up the cat barf (see last week's blog entry), we were reminiscing about how much fun we had with Danny Evarts this summer playing croquet at a writer's conference. (Actually, Danny and I had fun - someone else takes the game waaay too seriously.) Ten minutes later I received an email -- my short story had been accepted in Shroud, the same magazine where Danny works as a Technical Editor.
The signs were everywhere. Clearly, I had supernatural abilities that I needed to learn how to harness. I began to worry about whether my friends would start shunning me because they feared my awesome psychic abilities, and debated if I should use my power for good or for evil.
As I looked over the events from the past week, I realized one very serious, very important thing: who cares if I'm psychic? I'm going to be in Shroud! How cool is THAT?
It all started Sunday night, when Jason and I were talking about getting rid of our satellite to save money. The next day, all of our programs failed to tape due to "lost signal". It was as if the satellite dish had heard us talking about getting rid of it, and was expressing its disgust. (Either that, or the dish was protesting the new actor playing Michael on General Hospital, which is just ridiculous.) Weird, right?
I chalked it up to coincidence and went on with my week. On my way in to work on Tuesday, a bird flew in to my car. My first thought was "Oh, gross, I hope it's not stuck in the grill." People kept flashing their headlights at me, confirming it was indeed impaled to my bumper, but I kept swerving all over the road and eventually it fell off and I ran over it. My second thought was "thank goodness it wasn't a deer!"
Later that day, my friend Kathy called me and told me her roommate's daughter had hit a deer that very day. Eerie, I thought, and promptly forgot about it.
On Wednesday night, I had a vivid dream about Teddy Kennedy. He was applying for a job where I work. The very next morning, I went to a seminar on health care reform, one of Kennedy's champion causes. Sure, this could be chalked up to the fact that I just finished reading True Compass, Teddy's autobiography, and I was well aware of the topic of the next day's seminar. But those answers seem a little too easy to me. It is entirely more plausible that there were some psychic elements going on.
Thursday night, I couldn't figure out what to make for dinner, and then the cat power-vomited all over the kitchen floor, which made me realize I was totally in the mood for scrambled eggs. While I was cooking, and Jason was cleaning up the cat barf (see last week's blog entry), we were reminiscing about how much fun we had with Danny Evarts this summer playing croquet at a writer's conference. (Actually, Danny and I had fun - someone else takes the game waaay too seriously.) Ten minutes later I received an email -- my short story had been accepted in Shroud, the same magazine where Danny works as a Technical Editor.
The signs were everywhere. Clearly, I had supernatural abilities that I needed to learn how to harness. I began to worry about whether my friends would start shunning me because they feared my awesome psychic abilities, and debated if I should use my power for good or for evil.
As I looked over the events from the past week, I realized one very serious, very important thing: who cares if I'm psychic? I'm going to be in Shroud! How cool is THAT?
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