Like today for instance. It all started with filling up the gas for the car. When I shut the gas bit, there was something black and sticky on the lid. A dead cicak. Fabulous.
Then I went to the bank and bought McDonald's, and when I returned to the car, there was a traffic policeman scribbling on a bit of paper. After racing there, he just neatly passed me the accursed paper and ignored my apology. Such nice traffic police we have trolling around the streets today.
Stifling the urge to say something I'll regret, I drove off, only to have my fizzy drink spill in the car, drop my phone and to top it all off, the automatic gate froze on me today. Fantastic.
I shall label this day THE DAY I GOT CURSED BY A DEAD CICAK. Should I really be flying tonight? Maybe I should throw some salt over my left shoulder or something...