“My, what a lucky day I’m having,” I remarked to my spouse. We had just come from the Casey Eye Clinic in Astoria where I’d just received news I am eligible for cataract surgery. You might wonder why I think learning I’m about to undergo surgery to have an artificial lens implanted is good, but if you’d been wandering around in blind fog for months, rubbing at your glasses, thinking they are smudged, you’d also be thrilled. I can’t get out of my head a near-miss accident in my car I almost had about a month ago. Cataracts are no joke. And guess what? The new lens they’re inserting will be my first bionic part.
The day just got luckier when we stopped by Holly McHone Jewelers in Astoria on Commercial Street. A pair of gold hoop earrings I’ve had since 1989 broke. Or one of them broke. The closure broke. Not snapped off, but bent. This happened once before and a jeweler in my old town of Katonah, New York, fixed the problem in a jiffy. I was hoping they might be able to do the same at Holly McHone’s and they did. The fix took place on the spot, barely giving me enough time to peruse their fine selection of extremely nice jewels. I follow her on Facebook and am often hypnotized by images of pearls, gemstones, wedding and engagement rings and custom designs. Plus it’s always fun to drop by if you’re a dog lover because Holly’s adorable poodle is often in the shop and, let me tell you, that dog is a love.
On a roll of good luck, our next stop was Astoria Cleaners. OK, this is a little bit of a story. Please try to be patient. Back in November I took a cashmere sweater I’ve had for a long time in to be repaired. The sweater, which has some intricate embroidery across the shoulder blades, had developed some alarming rents in the armpits. I was told at the time it could be awhile before I could pick it up. They said they would call. To move this story along, I will say I waited until just before Christmas to make a timid inquiry. I was told they couldn’t find it; it was lost, and what did I want to do.
“I’ll just wait and maybe it will turn up,” I said. I thought it might have gone home accidentally with someone else and eventually they’d realize the mistake and return it.
So on this day, my lucky day, we hit the Astoria Cleaners. I mean, once you’re in Astoria, you might as well do all your errands. Lo and behold, after a bit of back and forth, the sweater was found, right where it was supposed to be, in the row meant for pickup. I practically cried with relief. I’m very sentimental about that sweater.
“How much do we owe you?” my husband said to the woman with the cool hair behind the counter. I’m always blown away by her hair, which is stylishly cut and a streaked with a blast of color against her natural gorgeous silver.
She waved her hand. “No charge,” she said.
“My, what a lucky day I’m having,” I said again to my spouse.
Later that afternoon I was felled by the virus going ‘round colloquially known as “the crud.” As I write this, three days into my deep distress, I am on Tylenol, Alleve, and a prescription thing they gave me this morning at Urgent Care at Seaside Providence Hospital meant to help break up the cough. It says on the label to take once a day, but the pharmacist said it could be taken three times a day. Maybe I’ll try it twice a day to split the difference. The way my lucky day turned on a dime, I figure my bad luck catching this crud may turn as quickly, and by tomorrow I’ll be fine.