Posted by J Russell
We’ve had these before. In my experience, bad things happen on all the other days of the week and dates of a month. Anything else is magical thinking. I have done my fair share of that too, before now, but these days I try to catch the superstitious thought before it starts thinking me.
I was tested yesterday when a black cat crossed my path twice. Fortunately my walking companion thought that it was a bad omen which cancelled out my former insistence it was all to the good. So, if you are a greeter of sole magpies, a thrower of salt, a non-walker under ladders (which must be purely health and safety?), or a believer in bad things happening today, empirical evidence shows otherwise.
Unless it’s windy. In which case stay indoors, where there is a rich source of accidents to be had. I can vouch for this, having hosted the towering inferno in my frying pan last weekend…
Posted by J Russell
I have this post in the pipeline that is taking ages to do, it’s not even that long, but it’s causing me problems. I thought I might finally have cracked it this morning but actually I haven’t.
So rather than leave a blank space on a Saturday morning I thought I would share this.
The kids wanted pancakes for breakfast, a reasonably regular request. The thing is, since the kitchen got plastered, everything has been in a state of flux. Half the kitchenalia is hiding in the dining room and things are commuting between the two rooms on the misery line. In fact, I have given up trying to keep track; the kitchen is like the enemy within at the moment. So the pancake batter is made, but we can’t locate the frying pan. In complete harmony with my defeatist outlook, I sat down and the kids went off to investigate. They came back initially and reported that it should be by the toolbox: it was not. Then after some time had elapsed they came back and said it had turned up and could I go and get on with making a breakfast stack.
Where was it? I said.
Under the dog’s bed! they replied.
How, how is this possible? I wonder.
Just don’t go there… what is left of my rational mind whimpers.