19 November 2008

Buttons

I had drinks with a girl last night. I'm not sure if it was a date or not - to be honest, my whole instincts with that sort of thing kind of went to rust some time ago. But I figured it was time I dust myself off from rejection and quit torturing myself imagining things on another continent, and move on at least a little.  It sure as hell helps that Lizzie is pretty damn amazing.  There was one particularly notable thing:

Lizzie's an atheist and empiricist, she says. But she also says she keeps finding buttons, and it's making her question the world.

She doesn't know why it happens, but all the time she finds lost buttons. She used to live in Prague, and over the course of a year and a half she found hundreds of buttons. Lizzie's been here a month, and she's already found twenty-one. No explanation.

I'll be damned if I can explain it, either. Assuredly confirmation bias doesn't cover it because of sheer volume. All I can figure is that she tends to consistently look for them throughout the day because of her past history, and maybe she has unusually sharp eyes. It bears more consideration, but... very weird, and not something I can explain yet.

2 comments:

  1. Is she a midget? We tend to find buttons all the time, being so close to the ground and all.

    The other possibility is that she is very busty, and is constantly finding her own buttons, which have popped off under incredible strain. In which case, I tip my hat to you.

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  2. She's six feet, so the one's out. And while respectable, her shirt is not exploding.

    Wait, why would you tip your hat to me if I was dating a midget? Is this some sort of affirmative-action thing: midget solidarity? Your people will never be accepted, sorry.

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