Archives for category: Bad Luck

A couple of people who read my blog have contacted me recently to enquire about the writer’s block that I seem to be experiencing. My reply has been that until I see the humour in current circumstances, I would spare readers my lamenting. I began to muse, would I ever see the humour?

No. Likely not…but could I try to see the irony?

Last month, on the drive to a family gathering, I seized an opportunity, presented by the rare absence of our kids, to entertain my husband with lugubrious moaning about a multitude of intellectual and emotional struggles that I have been experiencing of late.  He drove, while patiently acting as a sounding board for my midlife blubbering.

That’s not to say that the feelings I experience aren’t valid. These thoughts certainly swing in and out of my mind.  More often than I like to admit, I am confronting the reality that certain phases of my life have come to their inevitable winter.

I watch a young mother cuddling an infant or a pregnant woman in the park, and I feel the intense maternal pull for another child.  A profound sense that I am “not done” hits me to the core, despite or  because of the decadence I experience on a daily basis as our daughter’s mother.  Yet, the fact remains that I am too old to make another pregnancy either wise for our family, or fair to a child.

Together, my husband and I soon arrived at the Bottom Line; I am not a 40 something movie star taking a first stab at motherhood.  This is real life.  I tearfully agreed.

Only momentarily quelled, I soon felt the need to continue.  (ClearlyI was determined to optimize this 45 minutes of alone-time like only a pre-menstrual woman can.)  I began talking about feeling trapped, sharing thoughts surrounding my career, and how I had really always wanted to be a doctor.  I considered that I might like to try to get into medical school but once again I was confronted with the truth.  It was too late to start over.

Too late!  Too late!

I continued weeping, undaunted.  “And!  I’ve also always dreamed about pursuing some type of career in home renovating!  Why hadn’t I thought about my other dreams, my other interests?”  I sobbed.  “Now it’s too late!  I love being a teacher but is THIS all there is?  I’m done?  This is my life?”

THIS – IS – IT???!

(I didn’t hear the screeching tires at the time.  There were no shards of glass protruding from my left eye.  I didn’t have an inkling that I had just set in motion a terrible fate.)

Enter, The Investment Property.

We bought it because it was in a great location.

We bought it to make our money start to work for us.

We bought it to try to get a bit ahead in the world.

…how could we lose?

From the moment we took possession, it was clear that something was amiss.  There was certainly a “funky” smell when we went through the home, which we foolishly attributed to the owner’s one dog, three cats, and one exceptionally large snake.  But this sort of “I think I just got sick in my mouth” kind of smell was now in a whole other stratosphere.  Friends and family audibly gasped and swung hands over their mouths and noses the moment they reached the top of the stairs to the basement.  My attempts to kill the odour by scrubbing everything with bleach and water were laughably impotent.

My always-positive father-in-law insisted, “No…I do…I really think the smell is getting better!”

It wasn’t.

Some exploring revealed the basement shower drain was on its side under the basin and water was draining right onto the concrete.  The subfloor was soaked.  We began tearing out drywall and wall studs only to find more problems.  Copper plumbing was abutted end to end and held together with only putty.  None of the drains were vented.  Live electrical wires sat buried behind walls with no marrettes.  Open junction boxes were everywhere, and nothing was grounded.  Several joists in the ceiling had been cut right through.

Four dumpsters later, it was undeniable that we had purchased a complete gut.  As I write, there is an excavator sitting in the backyard, poised to crush the freshly painted (that-could-look-cute-and-cottagey-if-it-were-white) back porch, and carve a 6X6 foot trench around the foundation of the house.  The roofing guy is coming at 2 and the window guy at 3.

Reno girl got her wish…

But now the horrifying realization hits me like a straight right to the solar plexus.

OH MY GOD!  I said I wanted to be a doctor too!!

I can only pray that even Karma is governed by some laws of clemency.

Indeed, my ever-wise mom has always told me, “Be careful what you ask for, as you may surely get it.”




One of my closest friends swears that she is cursed by the rock group Heart.  Every time she hears one of their songs on the radio, something bad has happened right before, or will happen shortly after.  She says gets bad news, she suffers an accident, she loses her wallet, she drops something precious and it smashes into a million pieces…

You get the picture.

I usually play music on my docking station after my students leave and I plan for the next day.   If my friend happens to walk into my classroom and one of Heart’s songs is playing, she will spin on her heel and walk out.  Secretly, I have scoffed at this behaviour, I do admit.  I mean, really…

But, in walks April.  The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month.  Alexander got one day and he wanted to move to Australia.  Big deal!  I want to shake him out of his all-white, stripe-less sneakers.  Poor kid.  He doesn’t know what real problems are!


I know that April has it in for me.  I really do.  Year after year, I approach April with optimism and a fresh regard and it turns around and stabs me firmly in the back.  Then it gives a little twist.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” it seems to cackle, “You thought I’d make this EASY on you?!  I am APRILLLLLLLL!”

What has April done to me?  Let’s see…

On Easter Weekend, our car was T-Boned and I split my head open, from my hairline to the bridge of my nose.

My dad died in April.

I miscarried on Earth Day.

My mom has been in hospital for the entire month of April.

This month at work has been a disaster.

I could go on…but I won’t.

Alexander’s day was so bad that he declared that he was moving across the world.  His mother told him that some days are terrible, even in Australia.  Last time I checked, Australia has an April, so I am out of luck there too.  However, May has finally arrived, and I am looking forward to the end of the showers and many, many flowers.

Maybe I’ll give April just one more chance…next year.


Some people seem to attract bad luck.  I truly am opposed to the prospect of this being my epitaph, but sometimes one must face facts.  I am the girl who will pick the shortest line at the grocery store, only to wind up second in line to the cheque writer, price checker, wallet forgetter, or “Oops I just need one last thing” getter.  I am the girl who buys the a new white shirt, only to spill a cup of coffee down the front on its first wearing.  If I’m late and I take the dog for a quick walk to the park, she will find a way to unclip her leash and take off into the woods.  If I go through the drive-thru, one part of my order is always messed up.  I’ve come to develop a kind of morbid interest in improving my time in determining which part of any purchase is defective or destined to break.

The same goes for major purchases.  I will do all the research, I will ask friends about their experiences and their favourites, but I believe I should be banned from making the final decision.  I asserted my choice in our recent purchase of a Hyundai Tucson Limited.  We chose this model over the larger Santa Fe in the interest of reducing our environmental footprint.  We have now learned that our vehicle actually uses more gas than the Santa Fe, not less.  With a family of four, we are now terribly pressed for room and are getting soaked at the pumps.  Apparently AWD drive with a four cylinder = $$$$.  Who knew?

We recently moved our laundry upstairs to the office closet.  I spent hours online researching to find the laundry centre we would buy.  We purchased the unit and were thrilled to finally have it installed.  The stupid thing ground to a halt in five days.

What was I thinking?

Now all I’m thinking is, “Thank Goodness for Sears‘ great customer service.”