In the last two weeks my trusty old microwave finally met it’s maker, my dryer went wonky, one of my tires shuffled off its mortal coil, my prescription that I’ve been taking forever and was always completely covered by insurance suddenly costs $20 and the pharmacy said when they ran my insurance it said my coverage had ended. (it hasn’t and a phone call fixed it) and I finally got around to being a grown up and switching my Jeep insurance over to the same company as my house and was supposed to get a lovely refund for switching but my gooey tub fart of a mailman (that’s a story for another post) sent it back as undeliverable even though the agent read me the address on the envelope and both my name and address were correct. (Same guy that didn’t want to deliver my 40 lbs of dog food so put a note on my box saying it was too full to deliver that package of 40 POUNDS OF DOG FOOD THAT WOULD NOT FIT IN AN EMPTY BOX TO BEGIN WITH.)(( And there’s still more of his shenanigans for another post.)) I really REALLY want to feel sorry for myself but there’s a naggy little bitch of a voice in my head (that sounds a lot like my mother) reminding of all my shady behavior, especially the frequency with which I bellow profanity at other drivers and death stare people that get in my way at the grocery store or how I always, always, always give an extended honk and flash the bird or make throat slitting gestures at my siblings when pass them in town and past affinity for married men saying this might be karma and at least it’s not cancer and maybe I should just thank my lucky stars all of these things were easily fixable. Man that voice needs a good swift kick in the meat curtains. But all this shit does give me facebook fodder so yay for silver linings. Or something.