The empty chair was numbered 33.
While browsing to buy my seat for the almost three hour show last Thursday night, I selected and deleted seats from row 19 and 2, seats 44 and 33, respectively. I just wanted to mess with the computer selecting the best seat automatically.
Anyway, before the first intermission, I was sitting next to a minority thug and his whitish moo-cow woman. After the intermission, I discovered Dad didn’t have anyone seated next to him.
I got pissed, looked angrily at him and poked repeatedly with my right index finger on his left thigh, and sat in seat numbered 35. He was seated in 37 to my immediate right. Seat 33 was empty and to my immediate left.
That’s another synchronicity from and by TPTB and pals. “They” have been really coalescing speedily most recently with these double, sometimes triple digit numerical values.
(Such as today, King Eggroll totaled $5.55. The pick-up ticket number was 22. A previous transaction displayed on the Shell gas station read as $10.00 at 3.330 gallons afterwards.)
Before the start of Part Two of last Thursday’s show, I angrily and repeatedly poked the number 33 with my left index finger. I couldn’t stand being the brunt of humour by these invisible forces!
After the show, people stood up in ovation, clapping and clapping, whatever. I then motioned with both my hands at the empty seat next to me as a signal that y’all should stand up too!
Anyway, I’ve yet more weird stuff to share. I don’t know about y’all. But everything and everyone is interconnected. The tall dark-haired chaps behind us felt spooky, by the way. Eh.
Posted from WordPress for Android
Leave a Reply