this morning #943.

this morning, while i couldn’t have predicted that a minuscule rift in my morning routine would’ve made the difference between me relaxing at home & me being arrested, my psychic sat here before me telling me that it was so. i’d dodged a bullet. in a strangely spooky tone, she looked straight into my soul & told me that, in the days just before i’d come to her, i’d been subjected to “some real sliding doors shit.” do tell, madam mysteriosa! in what timeline do i, a squeaky clean thirty-something housewife, get pulled in by the police? i listened with doubt as she laid it all out. every single event. when she got to the end, i had to admit. it made perfect sense. i could’ve been behind bars right now.