I don't know whether it's a new thing or if I have just been made aware of it, but people seem to be getting into this ask The Universe thing quite a lot. You want something, you ask The Universe to give it to you and you visualise yourself having this thing. You don't apply for a job and then hope you are going to get it, you assume the job is already yours and The Universe will deliver. It's a nice belief, if hopelessly flawed; what if two people apply for the same job and both are into this ask The Universe thing?
I'm also reluctant to get into it because I've just come back from a trip around the world, and in the six months I was away nothing went wrong. No flight delays, no lost luggage, no illness, no natural disasters. Far from asking the universe for anything, I'm happy enough to just thank it for being so nice to me.
House-hunting has been a bit of a nightmare, though, and when finally The Dreaded One and I found a place that we really wanted, I thought maybe I would ask The Universe after all. This was a very nice apartment and we had already missed out on a couple due to a very competitive rental market.
Weirdly, there were signs that this might be our new home. In scouting around the area the first shop we came across was a doof shop, selling doof clothing, psychedelic artwork and music. As you may or may not know, I heart doof. In the music section I found a couple of psytrance albums by friends of mine, albums that I hadn't seen before, so I bought them. Playing in the shop was a familiar track by a producer called Lost Keys. Lost keys? Was The Universe telling us we had found the keys to our new home? And The Dreaded One pointed out that the name of the apartment block was Acacia Apartments. The Acacia plant is a rich source of, erm, vitamin DMT, which is one of my favourite vitamins. Maybe the universe was delivering. God bless you, Universe, you noble and generous great big thing.
We visualised and assumed, even if there was a niggly voice telling me it didn't really work like this.
The phone rang. It was another real estate agent returning our call to set up an inspection time for another apartment. Was this The Universe telling us not to get our hopes up? That all the signs for the place we really wanted were part of an elaborate joke? Fuck you, Universe, you hostile son of a bi-
The phone again. It was the good real estate agent telling us that our application had been approved. The place we wanted was ours. Seriously – it worked! We asked The Universe and it delivered. Holy shit. Magic happens. For real. Oh Universe you kind, wonderful great big thing.
We waited for two days for an email confirmation that was supposed to be sent immediately. Nothing. Universe you prick-teasing whore of a great big thing... no one likes a smart arsed universe, Universe. Just go and poke your head back up your bum. I hate...
A phone call revealed that the real estate agent had been waiting to hear from us. After double-checking the email address we all realised there had been a simple typo in the way of getting things done. Oh Universe – come over here and give us a hug, you big hunk of a great big thing.
I don't want to push the friendship, but I'm currently thinking about my new neighbours. I am visualising Cameron Diaz... Angelina Jolie (sans Bradley and kids)... um... Shakira? Yeah, why not... ooh and Stewie from Family Guy, he would be a cack to hang out with. Who else...
Grumpy is freelance writer Lee Bemrose, firstname.lastname@example.org. He is looking forward very much to meeting the new neighbours The Universe has given him to play with.