They day started out so well.  On my way to work, I walked for a block behind Henry from Harper’s Island (if you don’t know who he is, don’t worry–it just means you aren’t me or my sister or one of the other 10 people who recently watched that show.  But trust me, it was almost as exciting as the time my sister and I ran into Keri Russell–that’s right, FELICITY–an event forever documented in family joke history because it generated this quote from my sister to Keri:  ‘Thank you so much for this moment.”)  Then I tracked down an uber cheap flight for me and the BF to take to Cali for New Year’s. And it doesn’t even involve a red eye leg!  The cherry on top of my Good Day Sundae was my afternoon run in Central Park, which–especially during the fall and especially when it’s a good run day for me–is like a big hug from Jesus.  I trotted out through the golden leaves of the park to the gym feeling like I was on top of the world.

Then I checked my phone and got a couple of not great messages.  Let’s talk about one, which was the news from my roommate that our landlord had called and put us on eviction notice.  This, for the girls who have never so much as paid a credit card bill late.  This, after all the crap that has occurred and been documented (not just here) over the past two months.  We quickly recovered from the threat once we realize their tactics are a joke.  To wit: I write this from my heat-free, gas-free (therefore stove and oven-free) apartment as the neighbors downstairs take turns slamming objects and yelling at each other in some Asian language. (Is there an app for determining languages?  Oh right, never mind–the Soup Man has the iPhone, not me.)  And all I can think as we continue to trudge through this mess is, Atlanta. That, and I so do not need this shit right now.  When does my real life start?

Of course I know that this is all part of my real life.  And that I have experienced more Real Life in the past four years here in New York than I ever imagined I could. But there is that part of me that, when she gets that bad news or ominous message, thinks it’s an anomaly to be fixed.  Unfortunately, my theology doesn’t support that argument.  As TK says, for Christians there is no Plan B.  My life isn’t a series of events–chosen and/or unchosen–that represent two trains running in opposite directions, with me ultimately deciding which one to jump onto.  The decision was made a long time ago.  First, when I knelt down on my non-throbbing knees (the run may have been good, but I don’t have the body of a five-year-old) and asked JC into my heart.  And later, when I actually understood what that meant.  I may occasionally find two roads diverging in a wood, but for me they’re always going to end up in the same place.