Cosmic Satisfaction

Two weeks ago I got a new wallet because my old one was really gross. For those who don't know, I like to keep all my receipts and all my old cards in my wallet, thus making for a rather cluttered trifold.

A few minutes ago, as I was cleaning my room, I stumbled upon a combination lock. I recognized it immediately as the same one I used nearly 3 years ago in lab for general chemistry. For years I've had this lock, and being the packrat I am, I have not had the heart to throw it away. However, I've never been able to remember the combination either, so it has always served as a memento more so than as an actual lock. My dilemma was that I had nowhere to put it, now that I was home and lacking a desk with drawers to hide my hodgepodge of personal memorabilia.

Then I remembered something, something that, if correct, would be cosmically satisfying. In my old wallet, I always saved the little piece of paper that came with the lock, which had the combination. I saved it at first in case I forgot my combination, but even as the original use went away, I kept the paper.

It first was used scratch paper, as I wrote down the combination of my lock for second semester's lab. I also wrote down my registration code, at the behest of my adviser, Dr. Vierra. He wanted me to stop coming to him because I kept forgetting the code. However, both these numbers quickly outgrew their usefulness. Thus, I had no reason to keep the small, folded paper for longer than a few months.

But I did.

And as I skipped down the stairs in anticipation, I fumbled through the mess I made on the coffee table a few weeks ago when I transferred all my stuff to my new bifold wallet (for the record, both pictures accurately portray my actual wallets, oddly enough). Looking through the clutter of faded receipts and worn-down plastic cards, I found the lock combination-turned-scratch paper.

I kept the paper on my thigh as I sat down, joyfully waiting for what I hoped would be cosmic satisfaction. I try the three numbers printed in bold on the front.

They didn't work.

I opened it up and tried the second set of numbers I wrote down.

They didn't work.

I reread the directions and tried those second set of numbers again.

They didn't work.

I tried the first set of numbers, knowing full well that this would be my last option, my last glimmer of hope to open a lock that's been closed for three years.

They worked.

Cosmic satisfaction achieved.