At a certain point in anyone’s life, there comes a critical moment when cosmic forces, powers larger than you could possibly comprehend, conspire to serve up the shittiest possible combination events that can be crammed inside twenty-four hours. There’s no explanation really… presumably cosmic forces like that don’t have much to do in their spare time. One thing is for sure though: Friday the 13th has absolutely no claim on such phenomena. In fact, I can promise you next Friday will be utterly fantastic.
How do I know?
It was _yesterday_ that my washing machine caught on fire.
Margaret
were your clothes in it? Did they incinerate? Are you naked, running through the streets of Siena with an angry mob of little old ladies chasing after you and scolding you for your indecency? No? Then it couldn’t POSSIBLY be the shittiest day ever…: )
Taylor
The machine has the same name as the mountain behind our school in Riva. Maybe you angered the gods somehow…