Sometimes, You Do Finish Things

I have been having a very strange experience since February. On A Whim, I called up my local University, where I had taken a course within living memory, and they had a record of it and I discovered that I had a person number. My, that was empowering. As it happens, this person number led me to believe that I could fill in a woeful gap: that one and singular credit that divided me from a bachelor’s degree in an obscure line of study. So, following that whim, I called two other institutions of learning (both well-respected, if not nationally known) and asked them to collect aging and dusty records to see if, at long last, enough learning (and credit therefore) had accreted to my humble account to qualify for a degree in something.

In this story, people lost things, or didn’t have the original of the thing. There were multiple phone calls and e-mails. The paternal institution eventually acquired (but not in the needed place) three separate copies of what it needed to make that critical decision. I was sacharinally sweet to several unrelated persons, and yesterday I received news that this vaunted and valuable piece of paper would be awarded. They wanted only to know where to send it.

My brother commented: “now you can get that job you’ve always wanted.”

Yes, I has arrived.