God speaks to me through fortune cookies.

My boyfriend and I usually do something on Sundays I'm embarrassed to admit. No, get your mind out of the gutter - it's not quite scandalous Sunday activity.

We get very. . . Oh gosh, do I admit this? We become very. . . I shake my head at myself and my feminist attitudes, but my boyfriend and I become very. . .

Domestic.

Phew. I'm glad I was able to confide in you guys.

On Sundays, my boyfriend and I rise around 3 in the afternoon. Well. I rise around 9:30 a.m. with a cup of coffee, that week's New Yorker, and a cigarette. I wait around for him to wake up after a long Saturday night's work, which normally happens around 3 in the afternoon. We shower - or not - put on decent clothing - or not - and drive to Mooresville. My boyfriend is in love with a Chinese buffet called Dong's (again, keep your mind out of the gutter, dear reader, winkwink) in Mooresville that lists all-you-can-eat snow crab legs on Sundays. After I've had my fill of veggie lo mein and he's already been to the buffet line two or three times, he goes back for one last gigantic plate full of crab legs drenched in butter-like oil.

Dong's is his favorite. And we go nearly every Sunday, quickly followed by one of those dollar movie theatres. It's our Sunday tradition. It's our Sunday tradition as a couple. And it's painfully cute and domestic and gross.

In any case, at the end of the meal, the waitress always brings two fortune cookies. Appropriate, I know.

During my first trip to Dong's, my fortune read, "You will be seeking new employment very soon." I laughed, even hoped this was true, because I absolutely hated being an Editorial Assistant for the pharmaceutical magazine company where I was working.

The next day, I was laid off. The fortune cookie, my friends, was right.

I flirted with unemployment, as many of you know, for nearly eight months. I survived on very little money and I have no idea how. But on another Sunday at Dong's in November, my fortune cookie told me that, "Good news is around the corner."

Several days later, I was offered a job at my present employer.

Oh, fortune cookie, you are a prophet! An oracle at the very least!

Dong's fortune cookies routinely make fairly accurate predictions, at least for me. It's a little freaky. It's as if I've found some kind of bizarre, surreal, supernatural portal in the form of a note baked inside a folded confection. Sounds like a bad sci fi movie aimed at high school kids.

Anyway.

Several weeks ago, my boyfriend and I made our weekly drive to Dong's. And my fortune?

"Pack your bags. You're moving east."

Well, friends. I've been accepted to New York City's the New School as a part of their Master's of Fine Arts in Creative Writing with a specification in Nonfiction. I guess the fortune cookie was a little off, as New York's a little more northeast than just east.

I don't know if I'm actually going to go or not. The school's giving me some money, but not a whole lot. However, attending that university would be a ridiculously good opportunity and I'd be an idiot to not seriously consider my options very carefully.

But if I do go - I definitely need to find out if Dong's fortune cookies are sold in NYC.