They say bad luck runs in threes, and the last couple of days, I’ve been counting. Now, I’m holding my breath, and thinking Is that three? I think that was three.
Yesterday, I blew up my neti pot. It probably didn’t actually say “Microwave Safe” on the packaging, but why wouldn’t it be? And I’ve been microwaving it. For about a year. Well, yesterday, it finally set its foot down. BOOM! And eight ounces of water goes a long way in a small microwave.
Today, I’ve been shopping for neti pots.
Locally. (Or semi-locally, anyway.)
Because those near and dear to me have a fixation with shop local.
And what did I find in four or five different stops?
Uhm… Exactly the same neti pot I’ve already blown up once. It also comes in plastic, but no promises on microwaves, there, either.
I have now earned the right to shop online.
I also forgot to move my work clothes from the washer into the drier this morning. Well, until about fifteen minutes before it was time to leave, anyway.
Not that it would have mattered much, since it rained all day, but it’s the principle of the thing.
Oh, yes. And Ex-Boyfriends Digest arrived in my mailbox in time to greet me when I got home.
For those of you who are following the adventures of our rugged and manly hero, he rescued seven orphans and a box of kittens from a raging apartment fire. Then, as an encore, he went spelunking in the belly of the whale that ate their parents, and led the couple back to safety, using nothing but a Boy Scout compass and his detailed knowledge of whale intestines, so technically, the children are not orphans, anymore.
The surprised parents had to get back to their seven children (now with kittens) and they were not grateful. Seems being swallowed whole was the first peace and quiet they’d gotten since 2003.
But by then, the whale had a terrible case of indigestion, and refused to eat them a second time, so they were stuck.