Jinx in a Tissue
At the start of April I was faced with four consecutive Saturdays of bucks weekends or weddings. It was going to be a long, exciting month of celebrations of love, and buddies, and drinking and shared germs.
On the last day of March, before I boarded my first bus for almost a year, I wished that if I could get through the next four weeks without getting sick I would be amazed and grateful.
Somehow, against all odds, it happened. I rode public transport, ate off dirty barbecues, shook hands and kissed cheeks with people from all over. I woke up the day after Cowan's wedding feeling healthy and free.
The very next day I caught a cold. A day of sore throat that was followed by a week of fatigue, hot snot and high temperatures.
I'm like, shit, I should have wished for something better.
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.