Cursed

My partner and I firmly believe that we are cursed. Not in the “let’s find an exorcist” way, just mundane commonplace curses that inconvenience us.

For instance, seven times out of ten, no matter what the weather forecast says, within an hour of us putting the laundry out on the balcony, it rains. It could be bright and sunny when we put the clothes up on the drying racks, but give it sixty minutes or so and the clouds would be gathering all dark and ominous, like someone yelled for roll call right over our condo.

Another curse we are afflicted with is seeing buses leave the bus stop while we are on the way to them. The distance between where we are and the bus will be approximately “too far to make a run for it” and “close enough for you to entertain the thought”. Then it trundles away, while we swear under our breaths at why we didn’t train to be sprinters.

On the bright side, these curses have caused us to feel more bonded as a couple. Compatible curses should be part of choosing a spouse. I should turn this into a whole new pseudoscience, like astrology. I’d rake in millions of dollars and spawn a whole new theology for the perpetually online crowd.