This morning my alarm didn't go off, I was out of coffee, I got sideswiped by a Miata at the corner of Spring Garden and Robie, and I knocked over my full cup of java at Coburg Coffee. I offered to clean it up myself but was told it happened all the time and to be on my way. That's when I ran into The Violinist again.

The only thing I know about The Violinist is that she plays the violin. Out of a city of 300,000 people, I seem to run into her far more consistently than the other 299,999. Of course this means nothing. I probably pass by the same toothpick thin custodial worker with the moustache and sweat stained ball cap twice a day and just don't notice. What can I say in my defense? Read Desmond Morris.

The problem has always been timing. If I'm not in a monogamous relationship when we randomly run into each other, I'm in a platonic one with whom I'm walking arm in arm down the road with after watching a late movie. This time it was her turn to be accompanied by the opposite sex. He had on a Phish-esque necklace with wooden beads bigger than my biceps. And a bike. About as opposite as two people can be.

So we stop and start the pattern of all our other meetings. We remind each other of our names. Small talk. Me, a lot of blushing while looking at the ground and twirling my foot on its big toe. Her, smiling and avoiding my question about how her weekend was. Him, probably with his fist cocked ready to sucker punch me if I cross a line. She asks if I'm not busy and would like to come for coffee. I tell her I am busy and would love to come for coffee but can't. I feel his jaw bone clench tight so I decide to make my exit. I mumble something about it being inevitable that we'll randomly run into each other within a week and she agrees. I don't glance back over my shoulder as I walk away to see if she's looking because that's something John Cusack would do.

My new philosophy on life is to never do what John Cusack would do.

While the option exists for me to make a phone call or two and find her contact information, I do so enjoy being confronted with the meaninglessness and randomness of this uncaring world. I don't leave things up to fate. I leave them up to malfunctioning clock radios, road rage and spilt coffee.