A short story about luck(?)

I’m about to sit down at the computer to write about a lucky incident that happened yesterday when the chair slips out from underneath me, I crash onto my back on the wood floor, hit my head, and spill my icy treat all over the room.  What I was going to say before this scene out of Three Stooges, was that last night while Hilarie and I were editing a video, and I was daydreaming about SoftServe – the buzzer goes off. Who could that be? Everyone who knows where I live in New York is in my apartment or asleep (grandma).


Me: “I didn’t order anything”

“Delivery from SoftServe”

Me: “I didn’t order anything”

“Sorry must have the wrong apartment”


Me: “Stil me, I didn’t order anything”


Me: “That’s me”

“It’s says Zoey”

Me: “I guess come up then… ” Hilarie and I couldn’t decide if some mystery admirer had sent me ice cream or we were about to murdered, so I did the exact thing you’re not supposed to do when a stranger wants to be buzzed in. “Come on up, I’m home alone! 4A!”

She hands me a bag from Soft Serve that contains the exact order I placed last week. A quart of raspberry sorbet with a side of pomegranate seeds. But I got my order last week, about 5 minutes after I placed it.

Well isn’t that lucky! I never win anything. Ever. I’m constantly submitting my name for Ellen’s giveaways, Oprah’s show and Vogue shopping sprees. And the person who wins it, turns out to be my Dad, who hates Oprah! So I was feeling very good about my luck turning around, as I’m grabbing that tub of ice cream to chow down on.

Now I’m cleaning up melting ice cream that managed to fling itself clear across the apartment, under the closed bathroom door, and using the rest of that “lucky delivery” to ice my behind.


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