Several times a week, I’ll make an omelet for breakfast.

I like the energy having a base of protein gives me for starting the day.  I add chopped zucchini, or other veggies, and onions, often mushroom slices.

I’ve gotten out of the habit of using eggs as a carrier for melted cheese. I’ve started to use one whole egg and just the whites of another in an effort to keep cholesterol down.

So, a few mornings ago, I cracked open an egg laid by a cage-free, happy hen (or so, I’d like to believe).  I transferred the yolk back and forth, from one half shell to the other over a bowl so that the clear, thick, gelatinous albumen would fall into it.

When I thought I had gotten the last drop of egg white into the bowl, I carried the shell and yolk over to my kitchen garbage can, stepped on the lid release and threw the yolk away.

I cracked the second egg over the bowl and looked down to see two yolks.  Hey, wait a second!  I raised the lid of my garbage can and saw that I had, indeed, disposed of a yolk already that morning.  I got a bonus yolk in the second egg.

There are many interpretations for discovering two yolks in an egg.  I decided it was lucky.  The odds, I learned after consulting Google, were one in a thousand.

Yes, lucky.  For one thing, I decided to eat a richer than usual breakfast.  After all, I couldn’t help it that two yolks found their way into my bowl for scrambling.

The bottom line is that I was almost giddy about my breakfast bonus.  I got an extra treat of flavor in my omelet.  I didn’t know the odds at the time, but I intuitively understood that what had happened was rare.

But my outlook was changed for the day.  I felt fortunate. I felt fortunate over such a small, impersonal, occurrence.

These little things happen all the time.

On Saturday, the 16th, I elbowed my way towards the front of the crowd at Chief O’Neil’s, a local pub that had a festive musical lineup for Saint Paddy’s Day.  They instructed some of the patrons sitting at tables and a large standing crowd drinking out of plastic cups to move back so that a troop of step dancers had room to perform.

Without planning and without paying any special fee, based on how the audience was reconfigured, I had an unobstructed view of the Trinity Dancers. Charmingly normal looking teenage girls (i.e., not all tall stick figures) high-kicked and smiled their way through several jigs, and I was close enough to catch one of their high-flying limbs against my shin.  A bonus, too.

Or, when I have to wait in line for a table at a trendy weekend brunch spot, a line which extends out the door, and someone from their staff comes around with pieces of fresh-baked scones to nibble on while the number of waiting patrons ahead of me shrinks.  A bonus.

Or, when I open up my mail and find a small check, like one I got the other week for $17.38. It was awarded by a utility company after they realized they billed me at a new higher rate before that rate was supposed to kick in.  Just enough to go to the movies (and get popcorn).  A bonus.

Or, when the gate is up an a parking lot where it would normally cost to park for the day.  A bonus.

I figure that I am the lucky recipient of little, unexpected gifts frequently.  We all are.

Of course, the secret to being delighted by these types of things is not to expect them.

I don’t advocate the philosophy not to expect anything in order to avoid being disappointed.

I do expect a certain level of respect and courtesy in my dealings with others, but I do think it’s beneficial not being attached to beliefs about how things are supposed to be and to pay attention and be grateful for unexpected circumstances that make you happy.

The more grateful energy you generate around an experience, the more likely, it seems, you’ll experience other unexpected situations as bonuses.

A breakfast omelet made with a double-yolked egg is no small thing.