When I was in my mid to late 20s, I drove a Lada.
Not the most fashionable of cars - in fact it was about as fashionable as my mullet - but it got us from A to B, most of the time.
Mine was light brown in colour.
I always knew it was light brown, so when I went to Halfords to buy some paint to cover up some of the scratches and dents, I bought the light brown Lada paint.
Then when I got home and went to apply the paint, my Lada was inexplicably cream, and had always been cream coloured.
The only explanation I have ever been able to come up with is, in that moment I slipped into a parallel universe where everything was the same except the colour of my Lada.
I sometimes wonder how the life of the Kim from the parallel universe I swapped places with, who bought cream paint at Halfords and suddenly found his Lada was brown, has turned out...
2 comments:
Hi Kim,
I would kill to have about an hour to have a cup of coffee with you and talk about this post. This subject has been heavy on my mind for a couple of months now for personal reasons that are too much for a comment on a post, perhaps an email would be better.
I made the choice to leave Alaska in February and come back to Virginia and have regretted it because in retrospect I feel I made the wrong choice for wrong reasons I also feel it set some events in motion that wouldn't have been in motion had I stayed.
Again, to much for a post, but I really wish I could pick your brain about this one. I have actually thought that I could fix things by going back to Alaska, maybe that's true...
If you care to expound on your thoughts on this matter here or in an email I would love to hear... Again would kill to be able to slip through whatever rabbit hole accounts for these experiences and have that cup of coffee with you...
Hindsfeet - I used to have a theory - well, it was more of a joke really - that we are continually slipping between one parallel universe and another. Each time we cannot find the keys on the table, even though we know we left them there, but have searched it a dozen times, then go a way and come back and there they are - during the time they were missing, we slipped into a parallel universe where they weren't on the table, then slipped back to the one where they were.
I played with this idea in a post on my main blog a few years ago when I opening a tin of soup was a weirder experience than it should have been.
Take a look at:
https://kimayres.blogspot.com/2012/06/tin-opener.html
:)
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