Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about karma. I’m not sure why exactly. Sometimes I get these ideas in my head and I become momentarily obsessed by them. For example, a few months ago I watched a late-night documentary about hermaphrodites and for the few days after I was absolutely convinced that every second person I met was a hermaphrodite. Only now that I’ve put that in writing do I realise how weird a thing it is. It is becoming more and more apparent that my brain is wired quite differently to other people’s.
Back to karma.
A few months ago, the old woman who lives across the road from us told my sister off for parking her car in front of her house. As far as my sister was concerned, there was no law to suggest that one cannot park on a public street in front of someone’s property. She was correct in this assumption, but respected the bitch’s request and parked her car further up the street from that point onwards. A few weeks later, my sister had some friends over for dinner. One of her friends parked their car in front of the nasty woman’s house, as the street was filled with various vehicles and my sister’s friend was oblivious to the woman’s rule. The next morning, my sister walked her friend to her car, where they were greeted by – you guessed it! – The Bitch Across The Road. The woman repeated her request that cars not be parked in front of her property, and left it at that. So that’s one half of the karma equation. But what goes around…
…Comes around. The other weekend, a few weeks after the above mentioned car-parking fiasco, I arrived home in a taxi at about 3.30am (I think). I live on a dead-end street, so it’s confusing to explain to taxi-drivers where to pull over. I’ve developed this fun little method of singing “to the left, to the left” as a means of instruction. Only once has a taxi-driver responded by singing “everything you own in a box to the left”, but it was quite possibly the greatest moment of my life. Anyway, “to the left” happens to be directly in front of The Bitch Across The Road’s house. This particular Saturday night had been a rather large one. I paid the driver, opened the car door, and promptly threw up all over Ms. Bitch’s lawn. I felt better instantly.
Two weeks later, The Bitch Across The Road has still not mentioned the vomit on her lawn. I am absolutely certain that she knows it was me because afterwards I started singing Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable at an astounding volume. Call me a horrible person, but I don’t feel guilty about the vomit-incident whatsoever. As far as I’m concerned, it was an appropriate and destined act of karma. But I can’t stop thinking that what goes around and comes around will only go back around again. If karma works in a continuous cycle, then it’s Ms. Bitch’s turn to inflict her evil upon me and/or my family. But I suppose that’s out of my control, and in Karma’s devilish hands.
I’ll be sure to let you know if the cycle continues.