I have spent too much time in the proximity of the disaster-prone Jwer: shattering a bottle of my favorite wine on the sidewalk and puncturing my arm on the back fence were just the beginning.

Yesterday, I was dive-bombed by cicadas, Goblin peed on the new mattress, and perhaps most distressingly, I ran out of cheese.

Today, my car was rear-ended, and the supermarket cashier who three years ago had a tongue-tied crush on me didn’t seem to know I was alive and didn’t ask me whether I would like paper or plastic.

He gave me paper when I wanted plastic.

I can’t help but think that this is the direct result of all those black cats.