Some miracles bite you in the ass-- such as Moses parting the Red Sea or the Bills starting the season at 4 and 2 -- but others require a moment of reflection in order to appreciate their glory . . . and the miracle I am about to describe falls into the latter category (although some people, even upon reflection, did not appreciate the miraculous nature of the following events, leading them-- for my benefit-- to post a definition of the word "miracle" on the office cork-board); Sunday, at my weekly pick-up soccer game, my friend Mario returned a soccer ball that I had left behind several weeks ago-- a ball that I figured was as good as gone (I'm not very vigilant about keeping tabs on soccer balls, as I have so many floating around in my car) and then on Wednesday of the very same week-- at my weekly pick-up basketball game-- my friend Gene (who I hadn't seen since the summer) said, "Hey, I have the basketball you forgot in trunk of my car, the one you left in the summer" and I was pleased and surprised, pleased because I refused to buy a new basketball-- which makes no sense, since I didn't think I'd ever see the one I lost again . . . it was more as a punishment for being so stupid that I felt I should go without a ball-- and surprised that he'd kept the ball that long, and that he remembered to put it in his trunk for the game, just in case he saw me . . . and then it took me a day to realize the miraculous magnitude of the conjunction of these two events: that two balls-- both of which I had given up for lost-- were returned to me in the span of four days . . . certainly a minor miracle if there ever was one-- and now I am excited to see what other balls will be returned to me in the near future . . . because things like this usually happen in threes (although with balls, it might be more appropriate if they happened in twos).
5 comments:
oh, come on. this sentence is really a not very subtle test to see which of your friends will bite on the obvious joke, right? i, for one, refuse to play your juvenile games.
you said 'balls'.
i think there's also some potential wife/castration avenues to explore as well . . .
Right. Such as:
"It is well-documented that Catherine keeps my balls securely stored in her purse du jour, and I thought I lost them forever when she lost the last purse in which she was carrying them (her Nantucket Blue Vera Bradley), and I thought I would have to remain a soprano forever, although I also thought the lack of testosterone might cure my hair loss, but then, miracle of miracles, the blue purse turned up, in all places, in the back seat of rob's car, and although I'm not sure what Catherine was doing in rob's back seat, or why she was doing whatever she was doing there, I am happy to once again have regular access, however fleeting, to my balls."
thanks zman! you've been the mvc (most valuable commenter) of late here at SoD (sentence of dave).
What?? What a snub of TJ.
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