It was Jerry Seinfeld's birthday. The morning I had to be to work at ten. Being an off day (more of an odd one as I picture my running schedule), I run. A couple miles, nothin' fancy. Felt good. I'm home and I place my armband, complete with debit card inside, face down on my coffee table. Along with the coffee I'd gotten earlier. Just enough time to shower and ride to work. I scoop Fiona's box and run out the door. Mind you, if I'm in too big a hurry I tend to forget little things, like my phone or my belt. I don't think I've ever forgotten to lock the door but I don't remember. I make it with a half hour to spare and walk in to Starbucks. I fish my wallet from my back pocket and upon opening it, realize my debit card is still at home. I tilt my head back in a gesture of mock exasperation and walk in to work. Electing to maybe ask a coworker for a couple bucks as opposed to a barista for a free cup of coffee. In the breakroom, one of my coworkers mentions how early I am but I dismiss it as I have to be in at ten--still enough time to grab another cup of coffee. My boss is there and I feel right asking her. She grabs two bucks and I'm ever so grateful. Next door again, I hand the money to the barista at the register while another gets started on my drink. The first says, almost sheepishly "you still owe me 29 cents". Two bucks! It wasn't enough--what was I thinking? He continues with how it's not that big a deal. Now, normally the americano I procure gets three shots of espresso, an odd number. But for whatever reason the barista in charge of my particular one this morning chose to give me four. An even number. I walk back to work, feeling a little like I did this morning. Tossed around after a spate of normalcy, processing minutae that normally goes by without my second thoughts (even). I sit down and begin to get into my work mindset and the bookseller from before again reminds me: "I don't know why you're here." I don't actually have to be in until noon, apparently. An even number. There's enough time to ride home and retrieve my debit card. It was either that or choose to sit next door and write and drink up my coffee and watch as the thought of being broke all day sets in.
I should add that at this point in my life, I'm halfway through (between odd and even) the entirety of Seinfeld having ended with the one episode where he comes out even in everything he does. Quite the poignant touchstone if I do say so myself.