THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 23, 1996 TAG: 9606210232
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 44 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ronald L. Speer
LENGTH: 69 lines
There are thousands of things I don't understand about the universe.
My ignorance increases the older I get, despite that fact that nowhere have I seemed closer to the rest of creation than I do at night in a secluded section of Manteo.
There are no bright lights in the neighborhood. And the stars twinkle overhead by the billions. They seem so close I want to reach up and pick a handful.
On a clear, moonless night the stars seem to be the entire universe, although they make up but one galaxy out of millions of galaxies.
We seem so intimate, those stars and I, that I desperately struggle to understand why they are there, and why I am here.
And each night I wonder how far those stars go - and what is out there when they stop?
I'll never have an answer to that age-old question. Even learned men and religious leaders over the centuries haven't come up with answers.
But I have come up with a theory about the universe - and I think - you will agree.
There is something out there that keeps track of our money - and makes sure we don't have too much of it.
I call this financial phenomenon the Water Heater Law.
It's a simple law, put in place by something that has plugged into the financial figures of every man and woman on Earth.
The Water Heater Law, put tersely, says that whenever you get 500 bucks ahead - your water heater goes out.
There is a multitude of variations.
Whenever you get $300 that is uncommitted and you're driving off to buy a direction finder for the boat, an excited neighbor runs over and says, ``One of your tires is spitting string.''
The friendly mechanic says all four tires need replacing. ``But you're lucky! We've got a special: Four tires for only 300 bucks!''
That's the ``You Need New Tires'' Law. There's also the ``Wedding Dress Blues Law'' for young women that says if you get $600 in cash gifts for graduation, you'll be asked to be a bridesmaid in a rich acquaintance's June wedding and the cost of your gown comes to exactly $600.
Generally, we're not talking big money. That old bean-counter in the sky keeps extremely close tabs only on the earthly accumulations of the poor and middle class.
You can bet that if you've taken off your glasses to read the fineprint in your checkbook and discover a $200 error in your favor, that all-knowing universal bookkeeper will immediately put into effect the ``I Sat on My Glasses the Day After the Warranty Expired Law.''
If you are skeptical about my theory that there's a CPA in the sky manipulating our financial income and outcome, check it out.
Remember the $400 you saved to fly to Costa Rica for some super surfing - and discovered the morning of your departure that somebody had stolen your board from the top of your car?
Surely you recall getting ready for the trip of a lifetime - a $3,000-cruise for you and your husband to Africa - and the doctor doing a last-minute physical smiled and said, ``Congratulations! You're pregnant.''
And remember how excited you were when you made your last $300-a-month car payment and were drooling over the financial opportunities, until your 12-year-old came home from the dentist and said, ``No cavities, Pop. But I need braces.''
As I said at the beginning, I don't understand much about the universe. But I know that a really big bean-counter up there knows how much I make and how much I owe, and is waiting to zap my water heater when a windfall comes my way.
I hope that the Super CPA in the sky doesn't find out I'm going on vacation soon. I'm not ready to put on a new roof. by CNB