The boundless mysteries of the universe
As someone that's naturally quite skeptical and growing more cynical each year, I've long dismissed the idea that life is trying to send me messages or guide me in any direction. I've often seen the cruelty of fate and the unforgiving cold so many people are exposed to; enough times to cast serious doubt on there being any kind of benevolent force out there. Life was just supposed to be punishing, and whatever solace we encountered was worth holding onto for enough warmth to get by.
Being raised by two very thoughtless and demanding parents, I learned at a young age to associate my birthday with disappointment. I didn't see the point in bothering to celebrate it when no one around me cared. It's now been 21 years since I've last celebrated a birthday, and where there once was hope that someday I would matter enough to have just one special day a year, now exists a pit of despondency that only wishes to get the day over with.
It's been 15 years since I've gotten anything for my birthday. The expectation has long been to get used to getting nothing, so try to imagine my surprise when I got home in the first few minutes of my birthday to see some brown paper grocery bags sitting in front of my door. A gift? From whom? Misplaced trash? No, these bags were full of groceries. A mistake? Why today of all days?
I tried looking for a letter or a receipt, something to indicate its purpose for being at my door, but no luck. Still, somebody out there ordered these, so maybe they might go looking for them. I set everything inside and decided to wait until one of my neighbors came forward. But why would there be no paperwork though?
After a little digging, I found out that when Instacart does deliveries, they don't include any kind of physical receipt with the groceries they get. It all gets ordered online, so the invoice they provide is a digital one after delivery. The chances of me returning these items to their rightful owner is now slim to none. Maybe the Taoists were right. The cruelty and coldness of the universe must be balanced out somehow, and this once it turned out in my favor.
It's fun imagining the story behind this this cosmic mishap. My theory is that some people in my apartment complex contracted COVID while celebrating the holidays, decided to quarantine themselves, and gave grocery delivery a shot in order to be feed themselves responsibly. The delivery driver, most likely worn out by the increase in demand from this Omicron surge, couldn't find their way around my apartment complex on a dark, rainy winter evening and lost their bearings on the way to my front door. The intended recipients, not knowing where their food ended up, either couldn't or didn't want to look around it, so their misfortune was now my gain. This string of minor agonies culminated into one of the better days of my life.
It's now past 6 PM and I don't expect anybody to come forward to claim their prize. But before you start feeling too bad, it's not like a parent is now unable to feed their kids because of this. It's clear from the food selection that it's a couple looking to ride out their sick days with snacks and junk food. I ended up with 2 frozen pizzas, 2 large bags of chips, a giant jug of fruit punch, a bunch of bananas, some orange juice, sour cream and cilantro. Clearly, they decided to celebrate a few days off from work with pizzas, chips, and tacos. Either way, I now have a reason to celebrate a day of my own. One I've wanted to celebrate for decades. My birthday.
At a time where I was fast approaching another low point in my life, this has been the most welcome pick-me-up I've had in a while, and the only gift I've gotten since I was a teenager. Happy birthday to me. Thanks, universe
Being raised by two very thoughtless and demanding parents, I learned at a young age to associate my birthday with disappointment. I didn't see the point in bothering to celebrate it when no one around me cared. It's now been 21 years since I've last celebrated a birthday, and where there once was hope that someday I would matter enough to have just one special day a year, now exists a pit of despondency that only wishes to get the day over with.
It's been 15 years since I've gotten anything for my birthday. The expectation has long been to get used to getting nothing, so try to imagine my surprise when I got home in the first few minutes of my birthday to see some brown paper grocery bags sitting in front of my door. A gift? From whom? Misplaced trash? No, these bags were full of groceries. A mistake? Why today of all days?
I tried looking for a letter or a receipt, something to indicate its purpose for being at my door, but no luck. Still, somebody out there ordered these, so maybe they might go looking for them. I set everything inside and decided to wait until one of my neighbors came forward. But why would there be no paperwork though?
After a little digging, I found out that when Instacart does deliveries, they don't include any kind of physical receipt with the groceries they get. It all gets ordered online, so the invoice they provide is a digital one after delivery. The chances of me returning these items to their rightful owner is now slim to none. Maybe the Taoists were right. The cruelty and coldness of the universe must be balanced out somehow, and this once it turned out in my favor.
It's fun imagining the story behind this this cosmic mishap. My theory is that some people in my apartment complex contracted COVID while celebrating the holidays, decided to quarantine themselves, and gave grocery delivery a shot in order to be feed themselves responsibly. The delivery driver, most likely worn out by the increase in demand from this Omicron surge, couldn't find their way around my apartment complex on a dark, rainy winter evening and lost their bearings on the way to my front door. The intended recipients, not knowing where their food ended up, either couldn't or didn't want to look around it, so their misfortune was now my gain. This string of minor agonies culminated into one of the better days of my life.
It's now past 6 PM and I don't expect anybody to come forward to claim their prize. But before you start feeling too bad, it's not like a parent is now unable to feed their kids because of this. It's clear from the food selection that it's a couple looking to ride out their sick days with snacks and junk food. I ended up with 2 frozen pizzas, 2 large bags of chips, a giant jug of fruit punch, a bunch of bananas, some orange juice, sour cream and cilantro. Clearly, they decided to celebrate a few days off from work with pizzas, chips, and tacos. Either way, I now have a reason to celebrate a day of my own. One I've wanted to celebrate for decades. My birthday.
At a time where I was fast approaching another low point in my life, this has been the most welcome pick-me-up I've had in a while, and the only gift I've gotten since I was a teenager. Happy birthday to me. Thanks, universe
31-35, M
