I needed to complain to my wife. I walked into the bathroom as she was getting ready for the morning.
‘This is all just so stressful,’ I said to her. My tone was whiny. Normally compassionate, she glanced at me with a ‘so-what-else-is-new’ expression. The toddler-in-residence was saying no to everything, running around the apartment turning on all the lights and slamming doors. He was throwing some toys, falling over others, and rolling a big red exercise ball into my path wherever I went. I couldn’t do any yoga and meditation was beyond my ability to focus within chaos. It was 8:30. The day had hardly started and I was ready for a cocktail.
Just then the doorbell rang. It was a man delivering a bottle of Japanese whiskey and a dry California Riesling. These gifts appeared like magic. My wife and I broke out laughing. The cat, thrilled, jumped into the new box.
Of course, I had ordered those gifts, but their timing was perfect. It was as though that delivery was scripted and stagehands hustled the man into position to meet his cue. We’d never had a delivery at that time of the morning before and probably never will again.
I guess you can have synchronicity with whiskey. I waited till Friday to fix the cocktails. They were good.