Our mailman doesn't show until 4:30, even later these days. Sometimes I don't check the box until the next morning. There were two pieces waiting for me when I returned from my walk, Sunday paper in tow. One was obviously junk. The other had no return address and a typical window. IRS, was the first thing I thought, or some other type of unexpected bill. To my surprise, it was a check from Charles Schwab for sixteen bucks and change. There had been a problem with one of their funds, and everyone who owned shares was entitled to compensation. I was hours from opening up shop and I already knew it was going to be a good day.
I rolled up to Bay Parkway at noon and, after a five minute wait, got the perfect parking spot right under the tree. All I had to do was drop the crates at the curb. And business came my way even before I was fully set up. Russian women were kind again to me today. The first bought two thrillers, including Joy Fielding's The Deep End, which I consider the most well-written of the mysteries I've sampled, but which wasn't in very good condition. Another bought Erica Spindler's See Jane Die. And a third bought The Private Life of Animals, a nice coffee table book, another of Arlynn's many donations. Spasiba, ladies.
Later, Bad News Billy showed - with good news. He was on his way to take his grandson to the beach. Before he did, he purchased the War of The Worlds DVD I'd earned at Zoom Panel surveys, and the remaining four children's books I had on display. Thanks, buddy.
And I got a good parking spot when I got home. I won't have to lug the stuff too far tomorrow. What a great two days. How does one explain such sudden good luck? There's no sense trying, I guess. Like the one or two fluke good rounds of golf that come per year, it's simply to be enjoyed.
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