7 Years

I'm not superstitious, but I'm convinced that today is going to be uniquely awful for me. I don't believe in signs and think voodoo is the punchline of some horribly rehearsed joke, but today I'm thinking more about their merits. I took a shower later than usual. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head and out to the side and broke a mirror in my bathroom. At least I know what to expect for the next seven years of this sorry excuse I call a life. If that didn't confirm the curse, then surely it was dropping my 47 cents in change on the floor and scrambling to pick it up, already five minutes late for work. I grabbed my book, the cookies, and had put the keys in the door, when I remembered Weather on the 4s calling for a vicious downpour this afternoon, which caused me to double back for my umbrella. That's just bad luck, right? The cookies that she had baked and put in a Ziploc bag for me had fallen victim to the heat and humidity on my walk to the subway, and formed an unrecognizable smear of chocolate and peanut butter. Maybe it was my hurried jaunt to the subway that caused the bucket of perspiration to soak my undershirt and seep through certain unflattering parts of my cream shirt. This is beyond bad luck. This is destiny and I hope it's just temporary. I'd encourage you to avoid me at all costs, I wouldn't want you to "catch" what I've got, this disease. Like Ace of Base said, "I saw the sign."