It’s a little after 8 a.m. and I’m the only one awake in the house.

A week ago, that I should even be here was unimaginable. A near-frantic Tuesday morning text message changed that.

“If I got you a ticket to the WWC, a ride, and a place to sleep, will you come with me?”

Hold please. Let me think on that.

A World Cup final.

Yes. I’ll go.

We didn’t have a confirmed place to stay until late Thursday, roughly the same time we realized my traveling companion’s passport had expired. Her wife, who we think may very well be a wizard, found her birth certificate late Friday night and, when we got to the border Saturday morning, the border patrol guard didn’t look at the expired passport long enough to even notice it was out of date. So, we may or may not be in Canadaland illegally.

Everything has just fallen into place (including walking into a very crowded Doolin’s in downtown Vancouver just after the ENG/GER match had started and finding a corner table with two comfortable wing-backed chairs.

So, to sum up, I lucked into knowing someone generous enough to give me a ticket. We lucked into a last-minute Air BnB house in a pretty convenient location. And, though less important, we lucked into a table in a crowded bar.

I’m wondering what we’ll luck into today.