A long time ago the Good Lord and I made a deal. Mostly the deal involved trading happiness for good luck. Then I got greedy and thought I could have happiness and luck and the Lord decided I might not deserve either.

Case in point: I decided I’d take my time today at lunch so I could eat outside, relax and enjoy the bee-yoo-tee-full day. I wandered up the road to have a meal at Sonic and felt pretty damned mellow at the end. Mellow enough that I thought I’d use the five minutes or so left on my lunch break to browse the liquor store next door. Been reading some books on booze and wine and thought I’d take a look around and see what there was to see.

On my exit, I find an old dude passed out on the ground next to my car, bleeding from the head and elbow with a cluster of folks around him and paramedics on the way. Thirty minutes or so later, they have him loaded up and on his way and I’m about ready to sneak out around the ambulance when some other ass clown parks directly in front of my egress. So I sit a while longer and wait.

This is how my luck works. I have a rough morning, I take a little break to improve my mood and the Lord throws something in my path calculated to send my mood plummeting to the depths. It’s some kind of big cosmic joke. Let’s try to find out where the man’s limits are. Let’s take him right up to the edge of the abyss and give him a titanic kick in the pants to see if he can keep his balance.

Well it ain’t goddamned funny. I don’t drink much anymore. Can’t take as much as I used to.

So knock it the hell off.

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