Milena Moser on happy coincidences: Saturday coincidence

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We sat with bowed heads at the dining table, on which aluminum trays and cardboard boxes were heaped listlessly. I ordered 60 tamales, cornbread burgers, three different cakes, different salads, and two boxes of champagne. The bottle has just been chilled in the freezer.

“Set an alarm. It’s not like it’s freezing us,” warned my kindergarten friend Jojo, who came from Switzerland especially for my birthday. So did my childhood friend Soos. Both probably imagined the weekend a little differently.

Me too

Victor’s condition worsened again from last night, but his doctor said that this time he hopes to recover at home. That a simple infection of any kind can develop into a more serious problem is a reality for transplant recipients. (He was hospitalized a day later, but as I write this column, the worst is over.)

The cell phone signal reminded us to get a bottle of prosecco from the fridge, when suddenly Adam, a young musician Victor had known as a child, appeared in the living room.

“I came a little early to help!” He didn’t get my message: Adam will turn off all electronics Friday night. This leads to misunderstandings and missed opportunities almost every week, which he doesn’t care about. “I call it Saturday coincidences,” he says. “It always doesn’t work out as planned, but it usually ends up being even better.” He thinks for a moment. “Yes, it’s true: nothing really stupid or unpleasant ever happened because I didn’t have a phone. On the contrary!” It makes us think. The idea of ​​turning off electronic devices at least 24 hours a week is tempting, even outside of a religious context. Can we, too?

Adam did not grow up religious, but briefly joined a very conservative group when he was 18 years old. “I liked the strict rules,” he says. “But I love women even more.” He means this not in a suggestive sense, but in a political sense. His mother and grandmother are feminists, and his values ​​were against the principles of the group. Since then, he has been looking for his way between these two poles. Every Friday he cooks for his friends, who are not only not religious, but they, like him, are in their early twenties. They drink a lot of expensive kosher wine and don’t help clean up. Adam sighs like an ancient man. “Every week I have to remind them to bring something. And now I’m back with eight family packs of chips!” Which reminds us that we also have an abundance of food. – You didn’t want to help?

Adam sacrifices himself and eats a mountain of tamales.

Then the doorbell rings. In front of me is an old friend whom I haven’t seen for a long time, with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I must have forgotten to cancel it. What a luck!

Source: Blick