Uh, Just Where Did It Land?

There we were, four professionals having supper (well, if you are a professional, I guess it’s dinner, even though at home dinner was at noon and supper was at six, like the Last Supper wasn’t the Last Dinner).

Anyway, I had some feta cheese on a roll and a small chunk of it fell off and down, I thought, onto the floor. Couldn’t find it. The woman next to me leaned over, put her finger down in her shoe and pulled the cheese out. “It’s right here,” she said.

What are the chances?

They’re probably somewhere in the same league as the time I worked in the helicopter factory and our department was just outside the shop floor, which was made up of wooden blocks. The blocks were somewhat beveled, with large holes on each corner; women, who were warned not to walk near the shop with spike heels, were always getting stuck when they did.

As we locked up our place one afternoon, the boss’ cigarette fell out of his mouth. It landed, lit end up, in the middle of a block. We looked at it for a few seconds, remarked on the chances of that happening, and/or happening again, then took off for home.

I’ve got to pay more attention to those “what are the chances” moments. There have to be many, but we just never notice them. Cheese in shoes, cigarettes balanced on blocks.