I had this fella when I was in college and for a couple of years afterwards. (I believe I potentially referred to him as Jumpsuit here previously, but let's just go ahead and pretend this is a new grown-up woman's blog (one where the blogger doesn't give men she planned on marrying stupid ass nicknames - we'll call him M-, like the mature adults we now are, right, guys?)). His name was M-, and I loved him and invested in him like WOAH. Like, we lived in a house his parents owned, and my little brother and one of my best friends were our roommates. I managed at a liquor store his brother owned while I was waiting for pastry school to start. I had my car, and our dog was pretty definitively mine (luv u 4ever Clo), but if I'd walked away that's basically all I would have had.
This ^ is unnecessary backstory, because at my most psychic moment, M- and I were doing super duper and my reliance on him and his family were very far from my mind.
It was Friday evening at the liquor store. We had these random busy times, and I hired my mom and dad to come in for a few hours and help me out to avoid having to do big real part time hires. Also because when it goes unchecked, nepotism is real and thriving. My mom had come at 4 and was supposed to leave at 6 when M- arrived from his full time engineering job, and then he and I would work the Friday night close together. At about 5:15, I started getting ... twitchy? Nervous? Panicked? I tried to call him a couple of times, because for whatever reason it felt like he was very late.
Not late, guys. Wasn't even supposed to be on the road yet when I made these calls.
Didn't answer, didn't answer, didn't answer.
M- had been in a car accident a few miles from the store. He'd left his other job early.
He was fine, but I drove my ass to where he was and to this day am pretty sure I was actually aware that something bad was happening to him.
On the morning of the eclipse, this year, I had the same feeling. Twitchy. Nervous. Panicky. Like someone was very late for something. I called my mom, my brother, texted my dad, I had eyes on Crockett - everyone was fine. No one later revealed that the morning had been a disaster in some way.
So, like. How reliable do psychic powers have to be? Is 50% good enough, like baseball, or do we have to write the first off as a fluke?
Also, I know you don't believe me and that's fine. I love you anyway. Welcome to NaBloPoMo.