Let’s review: Newton’s Third Law: Action & Reaction. His third law states that for every action (force) in nature there is an equal and opposite reaction. If object A exerts a force on object B, object B also exerts an equal and opposite force on object A. In other words, forces result from interactions.

Murphy’s Law: Whatever can happen, will happen, and at the worst possible time. The toilet will never overflow at noon on a Monday, it will ALWAYS be during the rush on a Friday or Saturday night.

I’ve been thinking a lot about luck. Cormac McCarthy, in his interview a few years back with Oprah, had this to say about it: “Superstitions aside, the laws of probability operate everywhere…That being the case, somewhere in the world there is the luckiest person. If you were to go around the world and make a record of the luck in the lives of all people on earth and put them on a chart, you’d have a chart with the unluckiest person at one end and the luckiest person at the other end. Some years ago, not that long ago, there was a guy in Las Vegas–I used to know some of the old time poker players, colorful bunch–but there was a guy there who just simply won everything. He didn’t have any system, he didn’t know how he did it but when he went in and bet money on the roulette wheel it would turn around to that number. It was so outrageous that the casinos wouldn’t let him play anymore. He was finally reduced to going in disguise and then one day it stopped and it didn’t happen anymore. Somewhere in the world there is such a person. It’s the same thing with the stock market.”

Another one from Mr. McCarthy: “You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.”

Anyway, I thought of this today because I was blessed by an incredible stroke of both great luck and shit luck. Somehow I lost my damn car key yesterday in Culver City. No idea how. Must’ve slipped out of my pocket somewhere near Sat & Straw. Well, no problem as I had a spare in my fireproof safe at home. I had a very important appointment this morning I could not be late for (this was for the stroke of great luck that happened). Went down to the garage and ugh, the car key had no battery. Well, then good luck because Auntie was home and offered her car. Ok. Great. Everything went well. Got home, and had a spare battery. Nope. Wrong size. Everyone left. I had no car but I had my boy. Ok, whatever, we’ll walk to Ralph’s and get some batteries. Oh man, he doesn’t want to walk, he wants a shoulder ride. Ok, no big deal, I need the exercise. We walk up there, just a few blocks and no 2025s. Ok, well, let’s walk west to the CVS on Wilshire, it’s just a few more blocks. First off, my son finds the toy trucks right away and wants one. Secondly, skunked. All the goddam 2025s are gone because there was a sale (2 packs for $5, so 4 batteries for $5). I get a phone call. Huge news. Great luck. Wow. Ok, let’s continue on. Well, Big 5 is right there. I continue to carry him. He melts down because he wanted one of the toys. We go to Big 5. Nothing. Well, ok. How about around the corner to Bristol Farms? They have batteries, but not the 2025s. Oh man. We buy some blueberries for a snack but outside he drops most of them on the sidewalk.

I’m standing there on the corner of Wilshire and Berkeley with this child on my shoulders, he’s crying on the outside, me, I’m crying on the inside. Where oh where? I think hard. There’s a Target about a mile away. I scoot through to Santa Monica Blvd. He’s calm now. I keep asking him, “Do you want to walk?” Why the hell am I the one doing all the work? He’s the one with all the toddler energy. I see a hearing aid store across the street and run over. Closed. I put my boy down for a minute to rest. Two guys walk by and one of them says to me, “That’s a crazy looking diaper, dad.” Huh? I look down and my son’s pants are halfway down his legs with the most piss swollen diaper I’ve ever seen. Jesus Christ. I pull his pants down, and adjust the massive load as his penis is exposed to all passersby on Santa Monica Boulevard.

I look east up the street. Wait a goddam minute. There’s a Jeep dealership on the corner of Centinela. Wait a goddam minute. I hoist him back on my shoulders and give them a call as I walk. If they don’t have the battery I’ll just somehow walk the rest of the way to Target and then home. Someone answers. I get transferred, then transferred again. As I trudge toward the crosswalk, a man answers and tells me they have the battery. Hell yeah. I cross over, go to the parts desk, talk to the guy, he finds the size and I pay $15 plus tax for one battery. I don’t care. If it cost $50 I would have bought it. I may have even sold the three year old pile of bricks across my shoulders for the damn thing. I put the battery in the key while I’m there. It never felt so good slipping something in. Ahhhhhhh.

Just a quick half mile home. Each step more labored than the last. “Want to walk?” I ask again. No response. If you had a slave to carry you, would you walk? We approach our home and I hit the lock button on the key. My car responds back with a horn toot. Victory.

Such a large amount of labor for such a small thing. But isn’t that what life is all about? The small details, overlooked, end up being large pains in the ass. I thought a lot about my life during my jaunt around Santa Monica. I’m a lucky man, one of the luckiest I know.