Last week I cut my finger with a knife on four separate occasions. The sheets were still wet when I got them out of the dryer right before bedtime. I got a flat tire and had to pay for a new windshield after the tiniest bit of rock hit it. B forgot to pick up the dry cleaning. I forgot to pick up the turkey. I scheduled too many things at once and gave myself a paper cut. Twice. My dog jumped on top of my sleeping body with his huge pit bull head and sharp monstrous feet. I twisted my ankle down the stairs. I lost to B in Scrabble after he cheated me out of the word qua (can anyone use that damn word in a sentence?!). I burned the cinnamon chips for a Mexican dessert. And B still cannot load the dishwasher like a decent human being.
B is making me start a swear jar. At $.25 a pop, that paragraph alone is worth $3.00. And that’s just the half of it. Oops. I just realized that I used damn in the last paragraph. Oh damn it again. $3.75.