Friday the 13th
I’m not superstitious. It goes against my worldview, which is cold, hard science. No gods, no demons, and no providence.
So why did I have two domestic accidents before breakfast this morning?
I’d blame sleepiness for the first: wobbling into thedownstairs kitchen to start up the coffee machine, I was looking for a juice glass and found one by the sink under a glass bowl. I took the bowl and put it back on the shelf—and the whole thing came down with an almighty crash. Before anything even registered, I stood ankle-deep in glass shards.
Then, when I eventually got out of bed, I went to grab my husband’s coffee cup which he hadn’t taken downstairs, as per usual. Only this time, he left it on the far side of the bed on the cabinet, so I had to reach across—and the thing slipped and landed with a thud on top of the Zaurus microcomputer which he had placed on the floor beside the bed.
It’s about the first time that I have broken anything since we moved into this house.
Coincidence?
Well, yes. Not very likely perhaps, but well within the realm of statistical probability.
Unlucky?
Well, no. Look at it this way: the shelf with the glass bowls was at knee-height, not above my head which could have lead to a bad injury. I also know that these shelfs are held up by dodgy pins. And: most of the chinese bowls and spoons which I usually keep there had been washed up and were still drying by the sink. The clamshell computer was closed. There are visible dents in the shell, but the screen is intact. It still works. The cup was empty.
So, Friday the 13th. Is it bad luck—or good luck?
I hope I’ll live to find out.
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Denni