Job’s Daughter

Fate plays rough with her toys, and she has a nasty sense of humour. She’s also (evidently) thoroughly pissed off at me personally. In the past week or so:

• We had British Gas come in and look at our ailing boiler (heating and hot water) and managed to talk them down to a discounted £2,500 to replace it.
• The car windshield got a stone chip, and in short order a massive crack.
• The microwave and the electric kettle both died (we’ve since splashed out and bought another kettle, go us!).
• This morning a seal or a washere or something that is supposed to hold the water in the toilet tank gave way, and now our bathroom is flooded. The water is turned off at the mains, and we’re awaiting a call from a friend of a friend who used to be a plumber. Hey, we’re not proud.

I am NOT, under any circumstances, going to ask “What next?”  I don’t want to tempt Fate. I’ll just bend over, say “YES MA’AM MAY I HAVE ANOTHER” and hope she gets bored with kicking us around. I have a stronge feeling, though, that she’s not done with us yet…the prawns that I threw into a spinach and tomato salad this morning tasted funny at lunch, so I threw it out after eating just a few. I know they’re supposed to taste like seafood, but they tasted really fishy…and not in a nice way. So my food paranoia is now making my stomach feel all churny and unhappy.

…or is it paranoia? You know what they say, it’s not paranoia when they’re really out to get you.  :D