One Friday night I was on my own. After a long week, I was blissfully looking forward to an R&R evening of movies and home delivery of some goodies from our favorite Chinese restaurant. Everything went more or less according to plan for the R&R until around midnight when I finally cracked open my fortune cookie. It’s words of wisdom: “You should enhance your feminine side at this time.”
I caught my reflection in the kitchen window: baseball hat, baggy t-shirt, and ratty baggy shorts. I looked down at my feet and saw toesies badly in need of some pedicuring.
So, maybe the cookie had a point.
But really, what’s on my mind is the anonymous authorship of these cookie fortunes. Who and where are the people who write these little messages? How does one get chosen for that job? What are the qualifications? Is it fun? It must be. Or not. Hard to say.
I imagine whoever wrote mine is sick of being anonymous. They want, somehow and someway, for their work to be known. If they’re lucky their work has a ten-second life span. So why not, they think, give people a reason to hang on to that slip of paper a little longer.
It worked. I have that oddball, ballsy message taped to my laptop. And so I remember to give dear Anonymous a moment of recognition.
