Love those fortune cookies, Part 12

Well, I hope this isn’t the universe playing a cruel hoax on me.

This fortune came from a couple weeks ago, at a particularly slammed dinnertime at the Golden, in the Tower District. (Cheap eats, plus it quasi-adequately satisfies my occasional need for dumplings — or, as they call them out here, pot stickers. One thing, though: No one seems to know how to make dumpling sauce — say, like my favorite joint, House of Chao in New Haven, which has a particularly pungent garlic sauce. Out here, it’s either chili oil or soy sauce.)

The fortune isn’t cryptic, just bewildering at the moment, given my job and financial status:

“You should do well at making money and holding on to it.”

Yeah, I should if I had any to hold onto!

Maybe the universe is telling me things again. About three weeks ago, it told me four separate times in two days to get straight with people who’d hurt me, and all four times it worked out well. So maybe, just maybe …


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