A series of fortunate events
“…Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. ”
–From The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost
A funny thing happened on the way to the TV room.
A couple of years ago I met someone at the gym with whom I really, really badly wanted to be friends. She was uninterested. I persisted. She demurred. I finally grew bored of the chase, smartened up, and dropped out.
At which point (as these things go) she grew interested, and invited me over for dinner and (this is the crucial bit) to watch Battlestar Galactica, which is one of her favourite shows.
However, how to get more of it? Luckily, I live in a big city with a kickass library system (which is, alas, on strike as I write this), and so I reserved Season One and took my place in line behind about 357 other patrons.
Finally, about 3 weeks ago, it arrived. Oh joy, oh rapture! (Oh goodbye sunlight and socializing and almost everything else while I sequestered myself indoors with my BSG collection…. OK, the library’s. Details, details…)
One morning during this BSG-a-thon, someone in my yoga class questioned my bleary eyes and distracted mien. Yoga, you will remember, is something to which I came reluctantly (by “reluctantly” I mean “kicking and screaming”) so the wonder is that I was there at all, especially with all these DVDs to watch.
Anyway, I sheepishly confessed my new love — and was pounced on by my interlocutor, who is a closet BSG fan herself. And as we were rhapsodizing about the plot, the characters, the eye candy, everything that is good and addictive about BSG, several other people chimed in, to the point where we finally realized the yoga teacher had arrived & was standing at the front, patiently waiting for us to shut the frak up so she could begin the class.
And after class, one of this small group offered to lend me his set of Season Two, the only set that is not in the library’s holdings, a fact that was causing me no little angst.
I spent a happy couple of weeks watching his DVDs (paying him handsomely in chocolate, might I add) and then two nights ago, a friend of mine, KL, texted me to say that she’d seen something on Twitter by a used bookstore here in Toronto saying they had the whole series of BSG on DVD, and “where the frak were all the BSG fans??”
Not only is Twitter a new-ish thing for me, but KL and I had had a falling-out a few years back, and it’s only in the last couple of weeks that we’ve begun to mend things up — life is far, far too short to pass one’s neighbours in the hall without speaking, say I, and she concurs, it would seem.
Anyway, long story short, I got in touch with the bookstore owner (“Followed” him on Twitter, for you social media-savvy readers), and presented myself the next afternoon with KL and her dog at my side to lay down my shekels for my very own, gently used Battlestar Galactica collection.
And then, as if there weren’t enough little twists and turns in this wee tale, as the store owner was ringing up my purchase and bagging it (in a very nice cloth bag with his store’s logo on it), I told him how KL (standing nearby waiting to purchase a small paperback about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising) had orchestrated this whole thing.
And as KL reached for her wallet and put her book on the counter, the store owner smiled and pushed it back at her, saying it was on the house for bringing him the business.
Sometimes life is neat that way — kind of the reverse of the old “for want of a nail…” series of events.
And now, my friends, having related that cheery tale, I must peel myself away from the computer and return once more to the couch, for there is a terrible virus on the loose on a Cylon Basestar, and Gaius Baltar is on his way to see what’s what. Also, I think Kara Thrace is imploding because she’s drinking too much and is about to get a real bollocking from Admiral Adama. Yikes.
Send food and water (and maybe some popcorn with cherry Nibs and a cold beer), and tell my friends I love them.
You know where to find me.