Dear Universe.

When I was driving to the hospital yesterday afternoon I passed the former Lady B coming the other way. I haven’t seen her for several weeks. And then, when I was driving back in the gathering gloom of late evening, I passed a figure walking down my lane. It seemed oddly notable because the lanes of the Shire were eerily empty of all human presence – whether vehicular or perambulatory – in all directions. The view in my mirror as I drove past revealed that it was the former Lady B’s sister, who I also haven’t seen for several weeks.

This is becoming a feature of my life lately – a curious idée fixe in the otherwise drab music of my existence. Little coincidences keep happening, mostly minor and unremarkable, but they’re still there. And they usually involve women in pairs. And so I say to the universe yet again:

If you’re going to give me messages, would you please be more explicit so I have some idea what they’re meant to convey. Either that, or contrive some way of letting me know that they’re not messages at all. Life can be a mysterious business sometimes and you’re not helping to clear the fog.