#6: Thank you, and Paul’s signs

(From Wednesday, posted Friday night)

I’m just saying thank you to the universe today. It needs a day off, too, and I’m a big believer in gratitude. And not pushing it.

Also, I got my sign. But as mentioned, I can’t really talk about it. Suffice it to say I hadn’t told my husband I needed a sign and while we were walking on the beach he spontaneously wrote in the sand exactly what I needed to hear. I’ll take it.

A word about signs. This is a true story. I haven’t changed the name because it does contribute to the validity of the story. So Paul, if you’re out there, sorry about your first name anonymity.

I once knew a guy name Paul. He was living with friends who were supporting his attempt to become a published author. Paul didn’t have a job and I have no idea if he contributed anything to the household other than being witty, which he did very well. He was also kind to me on one occasion, and danced quite awesomely to Prince when drunk on cheap gin. This is the extent of his talents as I knew them.

Paul spent most of his days in the house, writing. One day he got completely fed up and frustrated and wondered if he’d ever accomplish his goal. He asked for a sign to tell him he should keep going and said that if he didn’t get it, he was going to quit and go get a real job.

Paul went downstairs for a cigarette. As he was standing on the street, a truck went by. On the side, it read “Paul’s Signs”.

Paul said, well, OK, and went back upstairs to get back to his writing.

Paul’s Signs is a real company in Brooklyn. What they do other than provide Paul with messages from God as requested, I don’t really know.

Until tomorrow.