Today, at lunch, I had a demonstration of karma at work. A woman at the next table started talking about how sick her baby had been the other day. Now, although not suitable restaurant conversation, I suppose that’s fair enough. However, she then went on to repeat her vomit story at least four times – her description getting more and more graphic with each telling. The story became so repulsive it even put me off my wildly tasty chocolate and pecan pie!
As I was preparing to leave, the woman’s husband knocked over a cup of something – the liquid gushed across the table and all over her lap. She was absolutely sodden and appeared to be almost as uncomfortable as she’d previously made the other diners feel.
That, my friends, is karma.