A Glimmer

As much as I'm apt to complain about the decline of civilization at times, I was recently reminded that there is, at least, a glimmer of hope still evident in the sludge.

Case in point number one - I dropped my slightly aging Lexar JumpDrive in a parking log in front of our local Pizza Schmizza. When I came back about five hours later, hopelessly described what I'd lost, my new Schmizza Hero casually walked to the back office and came back, dangling my thumbdrive like it was a doggie treat in front of a AKC Champion Schnauzer.

Case in point number two - On the same day as point number one, somewhere between dashing for the only copy left of the third book in the Shadow Children Series and doing my best to clean up an accident left by my 17 month old on the couch in the children's section, I dropped my cell phone somewhere in the hallowed halls of the Beaverton City Library. After meeting friends for dinner and driving halfway home, I turned the family minivan around and at last stumbled into the library to find three nice ladies interested in helping me find my mobile link to the world - one who had my phone at her desk.

I know there are plenty of glimmers like these out there, and I do notice them. Sometimes it just feels like I am rarely the recipient. I guess this time, the point needed to be made a little more directly... I get it. To top it all off, my wife won't let me wear those shorts anymore, at least not with anything important in the shallow pockets.
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