Get Real Lucky, Sometimes

I get real lucky, sometimes. And I don't forget to say thanks to the guardians. Today's luck came at the end of a chain of events that didn't seem to have anything to do with each other.
I was working this morning, trying to track down the answer to a question that I need to make my next column of Drug War Follies for Skunk magazine shine. Comes up around 1:15 and I think, what the hell, let's just go to Fort Worth, pick up my paycheck and some fresh fish and call it a day.
Just then a guy I'd promised to call a couple of days ago called. It was related to a new story. I didn't answer and was ready to leave when I thought, what the heck, just call him and get that done. So I did. We spoke about 45 minutes when Chepa burst in and gave me an unexpected hug. I told the guy I'd call him back tomorrow. Chepa, it turned out, was having lunch with her sisters on some salt fish I brought back from the Amazon for her and she wanted some Margarita mix--left over from the wedding--and some ice. I told her I didn't have any ice but she said that Sarah had told her I still had a couple of bags in the freezer in the garage. So I said, let's go, I'll look.
On the way to the garage Chepa pointed out that Little Goat Guy had gotten his cord all tangled up with the tree swing and told me not to forget to fix it later. He's been back a few days and is still tied up because I have not finished closing all the holes in the fencing around the property that the goat made last year.
So I came back in, brushed my teeth, and suddenly Marco showed up. He was looking for his wallet. Well, I helped look, which led us to a large closet in his old room, the floor of which was covered in college texts and notebooks that belong to someone none of us know. So I decided to clean that out, and wound up with a big box of garbage. Too much garbage to leave in the house, so I brought it out--Marco had meanwhile found his walled in Italo's room, where he and Italo and changed into tuxedos for Italo's wedding--and put it in the garbage area.
And while I was doing that I saw the bale of hay and bag of goat feed I'd bought yesterday. The hay had been annoying since one of the three rear window panels of my 1998 Ford Ranger is broken and the hay was being sucked in so fast while I was on the highway that there was a virtual hay storm in my car. So when I saw that hay, I was going to leave it where it was, but then the little goat, Minute, saw it from across the fence and started braying for it. So I decided to roll it over to where the goats were and let them have a feast. And when I got to the fence gate, I realized that Little Goat Guy had wildly exacerbated his position to where his tongue was turning blue and his eyes were popping out of his head.
I left the hay where it was, raced over and undid the collar so that he could get his breath. In a few minutes his eyes were back to normal, though he didn't try to move until he'd had some fresh water and a few tiny mouthfuls of hay.
Now this is why I talk about the guardians: Left to my own devices, I never would have needed to get that ice, and Chepa would not have pointed out that the goat was tangled up. And even later, left to my own devices, I would have left him tangled until I got back from the city. But of course he would have been dead long before that. But by Chepa coming for ice, then Marco coming to look for a wallet, which wound up producing the garbage that led me to notice the hay still near the truck, which led me to feel guilty for not wanting to do the work to get it to the goats....well, that's what saved the goat's life. And I don't think that was luck. I think that was the guardians pulling the strings to get everything in place to save that beautiful goat's life.
Thanks, universe. You're the best.