Without Serendipity

I ran into a blog whose description I loved and it's applicable to my blog, too.

You must be really bored to come here.

No shit.

In case you don't know what serendipity is:

1. The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.
2. The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.
3. An instance of making such a discovery.

Word History: We are indebted to the English author Horace Walpole for the word serendipity, which he coined in one of the 3,000 or more letters on which his literary reputation primarily rests. In a letter of January 28, 1754, Walpole says that “this discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call Serendipity, a very expressive word.” Walpole formed the word on an old name for Sri Lanka, Serendip. He explained that this name was part of the title of “a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of....”

I've made a discovery, by accident and sagacity (this word has the same root as the word sage in my blog description). I found I could be serendipitously, insanely, unbelievably happy by just opening a door and seeing what's behind it. My capacity for happiness has been latent for much too long, I guess, and now it's unleashed. Like fury:)

In other news, kids have recovered from chicken pox.

In yet other news, I have tons of work, professional drawbacks and criticism, overlapping deadlines, blatant failure to get drunk on rum, a new Blessed Light Monk/Assassin waiting to practice on Random Arenas, and a half-full (or half-empty, whatever) bottle of baby oil, waiting to be immortalized in verse or prose. Watch this space:D

The title of this post is taken from a song I love. Love is not music.