It’s A Sign
It started just before Christmas.
I was driving home after work, and as I looked in my rear-view mirror. I saw Santa Claus. Actually, I saw a big cardboard cut-out of Santa perched on the chimney of the house behind me.
I wonder how they got that up there? I thought. And I took another look.
And it was gone.
Santa was not there.
The next morning, travelling in the opposite direction, I searched all the houses for that Santa I had seen. But there was no Santa. You’d think if I were going to start imagining things, I’d imagine a real Santa, and not a cardboard cut-out. But oh well. It must have been some optical illusion.
But perhaps a good omen. Santa on the chimney must be good. Right?
And then Christmas Day, I had another strange experience.
I was standing in the center of my den, trying to envision it as my expected company would see it, because sometimes, you know, you just don’t even see a mess that you made yourself. Or perhaps a surprise that a cat left. Anyway, right that moment I smelled my father.
When I was a little kid, my father smelled like cigars and soap and machine oil. It was a really nice smell. Especially now, when I miss him and I am also not standing downwind of an actual cigar.
My father’s scent must be a really good omen. We had a nice Christmas dinner. (and no one stumbled upon any cat puke).
Then the day after Christmas, I had another sign.
Back at work (and no cardboard Santa, although I checked), I log onto the company’s bank to check our balance. The website asks me for my password, and I type in “LUCKY.” I won’t tell you what the password is, but I can assure you that it is not LUCKY. I don’t know what made me type that. Perhaps someone passing by in the hall had been talking about being lucky. It was odd, but I didn’t think too much of it.
But the next day, I did it again. I have never used LUCKY as a password for anything. But perhaps it was in my subconscious from the previous day.
I figured that it was kind of cool to be typing LUCKY automatically. Maybe like a Ouija board, but not effin’ scary.
And today – weeks later – it happened again. I log onto the bank’s website and enter my password as LUCKY.
It’s a sign.
I’ve seen a phantom Santa, I’ve smelled my Dad, and I’ve typed LUCKY several times. I’m lucky!
And sure enough. The sign came true.
At lunchtime I got an email from Lucky Brand Jeans. A sale! 25% off!
I love Lucky jeans.
They fit me great. And they even have a little message on the inside of the zipper. It says, “Lucky You.” My husband says this is for teenage boys who manage to unzip their girlfriends’ jeans. But I think “Lucky You” is meant for me personally.
I click on the email and there they are: the perfect jeans.
Now I have a few pair of Lucky jeans already.
Specifically, I have 10 pair:
- Dark wash skinnies
- Medium wash skinnies
- Light wash crops
- Medium wash straights
- Medium wash bootcuts
- Black bootcuts
- Black skinnies
- Burgundy skinny cords
- Green summer ankle skinnies
- Coral summer ankle skinnies
But on the website they had Light Wash Skinnies. As anyone can see, I could use Light Wash Skinnies. Obviously.
And I got a sign.
And shipping was free!