Murphy's law...

Everybody knows Murphy's Law, right? Anything that can possibly go wrong, can and will ( obviously not quoted verbatim).

Well, that didn't happen to me, really. It's more like what my roommate termed as " just when things seem to actually get in order, life gives you a swift kick in the nuts."

Basically, I had just finished deliberating as to whether I was going to actually commit to commuting everyday to go to this Halacha Lemmaseh chaburah. I had been going for several days, and it felt really good; I went out and bought a monthly pass for the bus ( which is extremely convenient by the way, and definitely worth it if you take at least two buses a day), and I was ready to more or less halve my lunchtime in order to make it on time to the yeshiva out in Neveh Yaakov.

Finally! I can breath, becuase now everything is in order; I no longer have to worry about where I'm going to learn, i just settled this chabura thing, and I'm set. Right? Well, apparently not. That night, the night of the day that I told the head of the Chabura that I'm in and committed, my night seder chavrusa calls me.

He sounds upset on the phone, and in a practically choked voice he apologizes and tells me that we won't be able to learn anymore. He's an older married guy who used to teach in a yeshiva, but as of last Pesach, apparently, someone offered to help him along support wise in order that he should be able to learn full time, or something to that effect. Learning for learning's sake alone is polarily different than learning for teaching, and he naturally jumped at this amazing offer ( and he can't be blamed for it, either. I know people who would literally kill for that set up). So last zman, I saw him learning in my beis medrash and we got to talking, and being that i had no chavrusa because my old one had left yeshiva, we decided to learn together. It was great, I enjoyed learning with him, and even when we shmoozed, he was always chockful of advice and meditations for me to think about. It was convenient, as well; he gave me space to accomodate my other chavrusas at the end of the week. In short, it was perfect.

Now, it seems, that deal fell through, suddenly. The support he had vanished, and although he's not panicking, he needs to go back to teaching and learning in a night kollel that pays. ergo, that means that wherever he ends up won't be in the Mir, and since I already don't learn there for one part of the day, I don't feel it's right to go someplace else for yet another seder. So, right after I finally finish settling affairs for the afternoon, I turn around and find myself without a chavrusa for the night.

Naturally, I was pissed off, at first. Not at him, of course. It was completely out of his control, and I understand fully. But just the sheer timing of it all!

Talk about karma.....

So, I moped around for a bit, feeling sorry for myself and all. But then I realized that I'm a jerk, because while I don't have a chavrusa - which can be rectified. it just takes a little effort - this guy needs to find a way to support his family. And I'm the one who's getting all down?

I still haven't found a chavrusa, but at least my disposition is better now. And, my brother made me feel a little better by explaining that this is all in the realm of nisayon, and it's a proof that I'm learning, and growing, and doing the right thing, and God's just making sure I'm in it for the long haul, judging by my perseverance.

Of course, He could have just asked me....

In other news, I do have a funny story: Last night, I went to Supersol. I'm only in the area sporadically, so when I do find myself nearby, I take advantage and stock up on those staples of bachelorhood, cereal and macaroni.

I pull up to the check out counter and start loading my stuff. Two boxes of Cocoa Pebbles, two boxes of Cap'n Crunchberries, two boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios, a box of Multi Grain Cheerios, and a box of Honey Bunches of Oats. Next to that pile, I stack up the boxes of Wacky Mac and other assorted brands of macaroni, and give the girl at the register a wide grin.

She looks at the stuff, then slowly looks up at me. After a pause, she says " samim, nachon? ( Drugs, right?)"

After I finished laughing, I told her no, and then she sarcastically ( in that familiar way that Israelis speak ) asked me if I had enough. Maybe I missed a box? then she rung me up and I shlepped it all back to my place.

Originally posted Wednesday, 6 September 2006