Return to Sender: Karma Chameleon, Part II

Dear Karma:

I may have cursed you before, but something's changed. Because Wednesday, I had a day that was so karmically perfect, I figured that all has been forgiven.

It felt like springtime outside, and it was my last day at my job. Some might think that's bad karma, but honestly, I'm trying to greet unemployment with open, albeit frightened, arms. I've chosen to see the end of my job as an opportunity. At approximately 9:30, I was greeted by an email in my inbox, inviting me to become a core member of an acting troupe I've been working with, but never even auditioned for. I had become, quite by accident, a professional in the world of Philadelphia theatre. Sweet!

An hour and a half later, I arrived at Temple to interview for a position running, among other things, group sales for an upcoming performance by a local artist. At the beginning of the interview, they told me they still needed to talk to one other person. At the end of the interview, I was offered the gig. It doesn't count as a job, per se, and it certainly won't pay the bills (any of them), but it's a phenomenal opportunity to get more experience in the world of theatrical management. I haven't formally accepted the position, but the fact that it was offered at all was thrilling.

And then, as I was leaving Temple, I ran into two of the three people I know who have any business being on that campus. They're people who I absolutely love spending time with, and seeing them made my day even brighter. I headed back to the office to do some more desk-clearing and file-transferring. But first, a few of my coworkers and I had a lunch date.

We headed over to Giwa, where it looked like the only available table that could accommodate all of us was reserved. "No problem," said the man behind the counter. "It's yours." I ordered the bulgogi, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to eat it all (per the unemployment diet). Things looked like they might take a turn for the worse, karmically, when I asked to have my leftovers wrapped up but an overeager staffer threw them away. No problem, said the man who'd let us sit at the "reserved" table. They were going to make me leftovers. As in, probably more than what I'd originally had leftover, made from scratch as I stood there, and carefully wrapped up and handed to me with a smile. I'm definitely going back there. A lot.

The last few hours at my desk were uneventful, other than proving to me that I'd still need to come in next week to finish uploading files to the server. At about 5:30, a friend and I headed to Public House to join the 5 O'Clock Club. I spent seven dollars and left with a little bit of a buzz. Went back to the office to collect my belongings (you didn't really think I'd taken them to the bar, did you?), stayed to talk to a friend who was stuck working late. Went home, took a nap, talked to more friends who brighten my life, took a long shower, and got nearly eight hours of sleep for the first time in a good long while.

It was a good day, Karma. Thanks.

Photo by Flickr user jspad.