Help Comes in Threes

I’m not sure why things come in sets of three. What makes that number so good? Why not sets of four or five or ten? But everything seems to come in three’s (or multiples thereof), like deaths, beer, and toilet paper.

Now those of you who really know me (which coincidently is my entire reading audience) know that I’m not the world’s most cheery man and I have been known to give a finger or two to an idiot who’s driving too slow in front of me. But I do some good now and again and this morning I got to help three different people in three different ways.

The day started off normally enough. I got up and hauled my butt into the city as the sun was rising. I hit the gym and took off on a run up through Dupont and Woodley Park and up towards Glover Park and Georgetown. After a big left hand turn at the National Cathedral I saw a homeless lady pulling her shopping cart up Wisconsin Ave with quite a bit of effort. When I got closer I saw that she was stuck on something (the sidewalk). That is to say her cart was stuck, not her, or else that was a serious wad of Hubba Bubba! I probably could have just jogged right by her but decided to go to the front of the cart and lift it over the bump and she was on her way. No thank you received but that’s ok.

A little farther on down in Georgetown (by the newly renovated Social Safeway) I saw a bag floating, fairly violently around the sidewalk. At first I thought it was just a gust of wind. As I got a little closer I saw there was something in the bag. A crazed croissant,a psycho donut, or was it something else? If you chose "c" you are correct. That something else turned out to be a small, dark-colored bird who had ventured into the bag for its creamy, err, crummy center but could fight its way out. I held down the end with my foot (I wasn't really going to pick it up...there wasn't any donut crumbs left and the bird itself was too small to really make a meal of). After a few moments the little bugger figured which end was out and took off. While he didn't poop on me he didn't thank me either.

After a well needed shower I headed into the office and what do I spy as I'm walking in but a first timer, on crutches that is. You can always spot the first timers because they take small timid steps instead of using the "lean and swing" method that us veterans roll with. Well I do the right thing and hold the door for her. As she waddles over to the security desk she plants a crutch wrong and begins to topple over. A security guard and I catch her and sit her down in a chair. She's obviously a little shaken, a little stirred but mostly embarrassed. I helped her back up and to her office (in the farthest point in the building don't ya know). This time I got a "thanks" but still not an actual thank you.

And for all of this good karma I banked...nothing to report yet but I'm working on it.