Phlegmy Cinderella

The universe did it again: one large diamond, delivered to my doorstep at the exact time I needed it.

I have been feeling SICK all day. I still am. Went to the doctor, pretty much got told to wait it out. I have some medicine now, but it's probably no stronger than the cups of tea I've been consuming. Pregnancy gets in the way of all the good drugs. I took the children to the playcafe because the weather has gone all rainy and cold but could hardly sit on my chair after a while I was so tired and sore all over. I dragged them out of there after a couple of hours, hoping to get a little rest at home.

And then... Marie slept for four hours this afternoon, and I joined her. The minute I came down from my endless and beautiful nap, Babes walked in the door home early from work and offered to cook dinner. And all of a sudden I feel like I've been visited by my fairy godmother and I'm in the pumpkin on my way to the ball. I may vomit when I get to the ball, and I'm not sure if Prince Charming will be all that enamoured of my phlegmy cough. Still, I'm a happy Cinderella.

I take this very personally. It's a present from the universe, and it was given to me. It makes me feel like the luckiest girl on earth. It's like that time I arrived just in time to sing a concert and I got the parking space right in front of the church. Or the time we got that big house to rent from a guy who hardly wanted paid for it. Or a couple of weeks ago - when we found the perfect garden set for 500 euros, reduced from nearly 1500.

I like that I see it this way around. I would hate to see it the other way: that whenever something crappy happens, the universe has it in for me. If Marie had slept for half an hour today, and Babes had been late, I'd have felt like shit, but never in a million years would I have blamed some glitch in the universe. I would have moped on the sofa feeling miserable, but it would not have seemed like anything out of the ordinary.

When the universe clicks into place and works for me, though, the feeling is just beautiful. It's a pure pleasure like no other. Maybe this is where other people see a god. I can understand that. It feels orchestrated, deliberate somehow. But then I suppose the other side of that coin (the god coin) is that bad experiences are also the work of the puppet master behind the curtain, pulling all the strings. And that I don't see and wouldn't want to see either. It's too easy to blame someone else. Shit happens, so it's going to happen to me as well. No reason to suspect foul play from above.

I know that - statistically - things are bound to go my way occasionally. But I will keep feeling special every time they do. As if the perfect moment came wrapped in tissue paper with a huge red bow and a card with my name on it.