I get a kick out of checking my watch and catching it at 12:34. Tonight, just before turning in for today, there it is again, 2:34.
I'm hardly superstitious, and I'm not the type who asks for signs and looks for them, but I have a soft spot for this very specific time of the day. Not because it means anything special, really, but only because it feels right for consecutive numbers to be side by side this way. It makes me feel safe.
Eventually, my mind formed meanings from it, and I could only explain the feeling with this thing I have for babies in speeding jeepneys: seeing one makes me somewhat assured that despite all attempts by the driver to kill all his passengers, no harm will come upon us. Because there's a baby in the house. This checks out: whatever stands for scientific karma must know this to be true. Babies don't die (although JM earlier before dinner proved this to be totally wrong).
Whatever it is, you can't bother me to explain it for you but it's true for me all the same. When I catch the watch saying 12:34, I feel I'm in the right place, at the right time.
So why write about 2:34 at all? Let's just say, that just like my life, it's just as perfect as a 12:34, except it's off by one.