When I saw who would be my massage therapist, it was the ultimate double-take moment.
The short of it: for weeks, I'd been trying to work a therapeutic massage into my schedule, and, also, I'd been trying to get it with a certain, new therapist who works out of the gym I attend -- in fact, I'd been Compelled to book with this particular therapist, in an especially urgent yet wholly baseless and illogical fashion I've come to know well. However, once I finally got the time to get my much-delayed massage, it just didn't work out with that therapist, with my needing to be in another part of town for other obligations.
Therefore, I instead booked with a different outfit, convenient to where I'd be that day. They have a rotation of therapists, and you never know who you'll get; but no worries, because I'd never once gotten a bad massage at this place, whomever the therapist.
So, fast-forward to when I arrived at my appointment -- and was summarily shocked. First: by the sight of the aforementioned therapist I'd been so stubbornly Compelled to book with; she does massages out of this place too, as it turned out (unbeknownst to me, of course). Then, I was soon shocked anew, when it turned out that, not only does this therapist practice where I'd Just Happened to book (over thirty miles from my gym) -- but she Just Happened to be randomly assigned to me upon my making the appointment that morning.
Chance? Not impossible, surely. But, in the context of the dozens upon dozens of similarly unlikely incidents catalogued in this blog ... it didn't feel like chance.
(And, the clincher: the massage I received ended up being exceptionally good, and in a unique, therapeutic fashion that I've never quite experienced with another therapist, when I'd been so illogically Compelled to book with that uniquely therapeutic therapist ...)