What you are about to read is my tale about a series of today’s unfortunate events. Hang on. This just might make you dizzy.
(Good luck) Last night, I asked Brian to pick up some meat at the Co-op for supper tonight. Darling husband that he is, he came home with some pork-chops which were then added to the assorted odds and ends in my fridge. All in varying stages of decay. (Bad luck) Thus, mingling aromas and masking the fact that this meat stunk to high heavens. Rotten, foul, decaying meat. Ignorance is bliss, I guess, because I was unaware until just before supper hour tonight that I had a prop for one of the Halloween movies taking up space in my fridge.
Needless to say, tonight’s supper was interesting. And it most certainly was not pork chops. We had leftovers instead. The kids just love it when I pull out remnants from the last three meals we’ve eaten and try to mask it as something new. So, as we had piano lessons at 6:00 p.m., I thought I would return the meat to the Co-op in O’Leary, thus killing two birds with one stone. (More bad luck) I dropped Sarah off at her lesson, not noticing my empty gas gauge, and blissfully headed off to get my money back.
(Good luck) I was pleasantly surprised to not only get my money back, but I got double my money back. Catapulting me to an elevated state of happiness like I have not known for quite some time. Leaving the Co-op, I rode back to piano lessons inside a cloud of sugary, sweet thoughts about how awesome everything was. Something about how grand life was, or some other such foolishness. (Bad luck) But, unbeknownst to me, I was also riding back to piano lessons on a cloud of gas fumes.
(Super bad luck) Upon completion of the lesson, my daughter and I piled into the van and made it to the main road. Where upon the van started jerking and heaving on me. Although I intuitively knew what was coming next, I willed it with every fiber of my being that ‘please would I might just cruise down one hill and up another and then on into Bloomfield gas station??’ (‘…so that my Husband might not hear about this???’)
Nada. Wasn’t happening. Instead, I was able to steer the van into the Bloomfield Fun Park and off the main road so that I could call my husband. (Good luck) Fortunately, the phone that suffered grave injuries in the road accident Friday still works with BlueTooth! YAY!!! So, I was able to dial my husband before the lights went out leaving us sitting in the cold dark van. (Bad luck) But when my husband arrived, I was getting the strong vibe that he was less than impressed with the fact that this is my THIRD time this year having run out of gas on my way to O’Leary. And to make the situation slightly less comfortable for all involved, the gas can he brought along to aid his fair maiden in distress, LEAKED. Thus, making darling Husband now himself stink to high heavens. And I thought the meat smelled bad.
(Good luck) When I arrived home, I walked inside our house whereupon I was slammed with the rather potent aroma of gasoline. But fortunately for me, most of the odor was contained in the pair of jeans found slung over the railings that led up the steps to our side door. ( A.k.a. Husband had thoughtfully set his jeans out to scare away the skunks.)
(Bad luck) I am now left with the task of washing said jeans. Or, possibly tossing them into a dumpster, depending on what my luck turns out to be. Tomorrow.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. In my world, this is how that translates. For every act of good luck, there is an equal and opposite act of bad luck. So, why was I surprised again tonight when this very predictable course of action followed through for me? In other words. Why was I shocked when I ran out of gas tonight on the way home (indirectly) from the store that I had just received double money back for bad meat? And why would my good luck end up being a phone that had been my bad luck last Friday? Then again. Maybe it’s not about luck after all.
Maybe this is just another crazy day in the Gard house.