Many people who know me know about my notorious bad luck. I believe it was Wilbur who once uttered the phrase, “That’s such a Carly thing to happen. If I heard that happened, but I didn’t know to who, I would guess you.” Lately, it seems that it runs in my family. Here’s the rundown of the last month and a half or so:
-My mom and dad’s house got mould. They’ve had to live elsewhere while people bash out walls.
-My dad got pneumonia and went into the hospital two weeks ago. While he was there, he had surgery (for something unrelated). Hopefully, he’ll get to come home (well to their temporary home) on Tuesday.
-My sister had her wallet snatched by some jerk after giving him the bus tickets he asked for. Luckily, he ditched it when he realized there was no money it in, and a lady found it and contacted her.
-I had my near run-in with the car/streetcar on my bike.
Now, it turns out that not even the dog is immune. Last night she ran into the bushes at the cottage and emerged with porcupine quills embedded all over – her nose, her tongue, her paws. A 10 pm emergency trip to the vet and some anesthetic and she’s fine. But apparently it was a sad sight to behold.
Speaking of dogs, I’m off to Woofstock. YES!
