I am a big believer in the idea that life isn’t about what happens to you. It’s about how you respond to what happens. If more people made lemonade out of lemons, put on their rose-tinted glasses and sat down to read “Polyanna” I think the world would be a happier place.
Case in point:
This morning I got a speeding ticket just as I was turning into the parking lot at work. The best part was, everyone in the conference room at the meeting I was supposed to be in could watch and laugh as the cop handed down the law. “It’s 45 through here, ma’am.” Yeuh…I know. That’s why I was going 58.
I could have tried to plead my case, seeing as how my speedometer is semi-functional. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a pretty common issue on older Volvos from what I hear. Office Barbrady wasn’t interested in even giving me a chance to speak. He took my license, registration and insurance (reminds me of a Death Cab for Cutie song) and walked back to the patrol car. I don’t think he’d had his morning coffee yet.
When the ticket-writing festival was over, I pulled into my usual parking spot and when I walked toward the building, I found not one, but TEN feathers. It looked like there was a bird mugging or there was a tiny, impromptu bird strip joint set up over the weekend and this was all that remained.
As you know, I consider found feathers to be a sign of luck. A little note from the Universe to carry on…all is well. So I picked them up and will add them to my feather box at home. I’m really trying to think of an art project to do with them (feather mobile)?
So, even though I now get to shell out $137 to the city of Huntsville, I still have my feathers. That makes me pretty happy.
Death Cab for Cutie
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