I’ve got Steve Sax Syndrome.
Today’s wide throw to first on a routine grounder came in the form of a 2.5 hour search for my car in the DCA parking lot. Please spare me the suggestions to write down or text myself with my parking location upon future garage visits. Trust me. I got it.
And what else have I had going in this fine year?
Flooded kitchen and bathroom? Check.
Concussion? Check.
Dead (old) cat, lost (new) cat, flat tire, cracked iPad screen, wasp sting and poison ivy outbreaks? Check, check, check, check, check, check.
Okay, I guess some of those examples can be chalked up to bad luck and not a fielding error on my part. But when you’re jinxed, the fear of another misstep, accident or failure pervades every task, every thought.
At the beginning of each month I tell myself that I’m going to turn it around. Then another glass breaks, and I end up stepping on one of the chards that evaded sweeping.
I’m not sure if it’s a Year of the Snake thing, bad karma for something I did in a past or present life, or just an unfortunate series of shitty events, but I can’t wait a Red Sox eternity (86 years for those not initiated in baseball lore) for my situation to change.
Goat sacrifice? Sage burning. A seance? I’m open to ideas.
