I actually remembered to say it this month, after maybe 6 months of forgetting to, before saying anything else like "Look, I'm still alive!" or "Hector, please tell me that's Sheba's nose between my butt cheeks" first thing upon waking up every first of the month. Because everyone knows that speaking anything before "Bunny Rabbit" on that day will ruin your chances of happiness and fortune for the month. Or so my mother tells me. But although I said it, I certainly don't feel any luckier yet.
For example, if this is going to be a good month, then why did Sheba take a crap on my kitchen table? Why, instead of getting over my cold, does my head seem to be filling up with more mucus than my body should be able to produce at an alarming rate which makes my voice sound like Gus Gus on Disney's Cinderella? Why were all the treadmills taken last night at the gym? Why did the free pastries and coffee this morning induce horrid cramping and several restroom trips, on top of the ones already caused by the pains in my ovaries? And why, after eagerly microwaving my leftover mushroom turnovers for a pre-lunch, post-breakfast treat, did I open the door to discover 5 tiny flattened crescents with soggy crusts?
I know in the grand scheme of things, this isn't as bad as, say, getting trampled to death at Wal Mart on Black Friday, but sometimes these little injuries add up.
I guess things could be worse. I could be Sheba.
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