Super Good Days

This morning I woke up and it was Monday. Normally, Monday does not qualify as a good day. No sleeping in, for example. The scale, when I step on it is not kind. A day off from sports will do that but for it to happen on a Monday, of all days feels unkind to me. So I'm searching for signs that the day will be good after all. My in box shows neither new nor exciting mails, not even the Washington Post! Am I not supposed to get my: "Your Washington Post for December 8 is here" mail? Not even that? I shuffle around the house, coffee cup in hand. My bird feeders are deserted. The blue heron, a reliable visitor at the lake in the back of the house, absent. No ducks. This does not bode well for me or for the rest of the day. I see two crows in the front of the house. Surely not a good sign. I leave the house to put in my 8 miles of running. As I said, the scale was not kind, now run I must. The first 4 miles are lackluster, uneven, the wind in my face, not at my back and I can't find my stride. Back at the parking lot after the first round I see a black cat, ready to cross my path. I sprint towards my timing mark and the cat hides under a car. It does not cross in front of me. Bad luck averted. The penny next to the handicapped parking space, still face down. I have it under observation, waiting for luck to turn. Same with the penny on the shoulder of the Rainbow Mountain run. How many pennies will I find face down? I turn around for the next four miles and right after I round the curve I see a blue heron walking slowly across the path. That qualifies for a bit of good luck, I think. It does not flee or fly away as I approach. Good. Later, I meet some favorite people, we chat a bit and the day is starting to look less grim. I manage to put in a good effort and even one mile at a decent pace. When I come home, no emails yet. But then they come, and the news is good. I remember that I did see two Red Robins at the bird feeder after all. And when the snail mail comes things still look up.
5 red cars in a row make it a Super Good Day for Christopher John Francis Boone. My Super Good Days come whenever:
I find a penny face up. Best when it happens in an unlikely location, extra luck points for that.
In spring when the Red Robins build their nest at the garage and they manage to raise all their young. Every youngster to leave the nest makes for a lucky day.
The geese appear and lucky days ensue as the goslings are walking around and we can see them growing up. We name them six pack, seven pack and nine pack for the number of goslings in each respective family.
Later, when the ducks have their ducklings, every day the mom manages to keep all her babies, a lucky day. One year all fell prey to coyotes and snapping turtles and every morning was bad as the numbers were rapidly dwindling from nine to eight until we reached zero. That was not a lucky day at all.
In summer the lucky days begin when the hummingbirds make their appearance and start fighting over the feeder. To see a tiny hummingbird in the air like an angry avenger angel counts for a lucky day for sure.
Also in summer days are lucky when we see turtles, rabbits, coyotes. Record numbers of turtles basking in the sun on the grassy lake shore make the unluckiest day lucky.
With fall lucky days are brought by the blue heron standing on top of the roof, pretending to be a stork. Or by the kingfisher who plunges into the water and comes back with a fish.
In winter the first bird to the bird feeder makes my day. Or the bird of prey that sweeps down from its lofty perch on a tree to grab the (unlucky) rodent that failed to race back to safety. A lucky day to be privileged enough to observe this bird in flight.
Many lucky days. Many super good days.
However, sometimes I arrive at the parking lot to go runnnig and all I see is empty condom wrappers and condoms strewn about.
Somebody got lucky.