I headed in to the old house today to do some packing, cleaning, paint touch up, etc. and stopped by the Starbucks drive-through for a latte to power me through my chores. When I got up to the window the barista said, "Guess what! The guy in the car ahead of you paid for your drink." I was so amazed and delighted it seemed only right to make someone else's day, so I paid for the guy in the car behind me. I kinda hoped it would continue. It was a double whammy—made me feel good that someone bought my drink and made me feel extra good to pass it on. I drove away with my latte thinking this was a portent of a good day to come.
Then, a bit later, still basking in the glow of that pay-it-forward moment, I somehow managed to flip my paint-laden paintbrush right out of my hand into the air, where it did a somersault and landed on my sleeve, bounced down my pant leg, splattered my shoe and went splat onto the wood floor.