There are two leftover fortune cookies on the counter, and I’ve brewed a cup of ginger tea, so naturally I have to tear into one.
You will always have good luck in your personal affairs.
My personal affairs? What the hell does that mean?
I’ve eaten half the cookie while reading, but I toss the other half because the fortune is so weak and unimpressive. And also, the cookie tastes like ass. But still I grab the second one. Surely this is my real fortune, the one intended for me all along.
The luck that is ordained for you will be coveted by others.
Well, that’s obviously crap. There’s no luck ordained for me. Or any customer of Hunan Lion. Or anyone anywhere. I’m quite sure that the concepts of ordaining and luck are completely contradictory.
But both fortunes have the number seven as one of my Lucky Numbers, so surely that’s a good sign, because seven actually is one of my lucky numbers. Though considering I kind of just slammed luck I guess I have to say it’s a number I have a positive association with.
And these are the fancy, full-force fortunes that also give an opportunity to Learn Chinese. One of them says little sister, which I am, so yeah, there’s that. Mei Mei. The other one says run, which I want to do, both literally and figuratively, when I get all cloudy and needy and start looking for signs in bullshit fortune cookies. Pao.
Pao mei mei. Or maybe it’s mei mei pao. Guess I didn’t really learn much.
And after all that, I obviously need a real cookie. And I’m in luck, as it were, because I mostly never buy cookies, but I happen to have a bag of delightful bite-size ginger snaps which complement the tea just so. And they’re gluten-free. Bam. These ginger snaps might be worth coveting.
So perhaps that is all I need, as I sit at the kitchen table with a vase of red gerber daisies. Lucky or unlucky. Good signs or bad signs or no signs at all. I can just be, with tea and cookies. And it will be okay.
Easy with the pao there, mei mei.