Yesterday's post was "Feast or Famine."
Today I bring you the fable of, "When it Rains it Fucking Pours."
Here in The Fiefdom (which is what we call our street, since we own four of the ten houses, and counting, on our block) yesterday began bright and sunny, with a lovely breeze and a choir of songbirds.
Then the telephone rang. Lord Hubster answered. The tenant next door (in a house twice the size and value of our own, mind you) had a roof leak. Oh, dear. That's okay, things happen.
The phone rang again. Tenant up the street had a roof leak (it came down a biblical flood the night before). Well, pooh. What are the chances? Ah, well, we knew we'd have to replace that roof soon. No time like the present. Still, life is good...things could be worse....
Several hours later they got worse when the A/C here at the castle crapped the bed. Big time. His Lordship went outside to look at the unit where he found sizzling wires and cute little puffs of smoke, like those from a baby dragon.
He curse. He cursed again. He cursed a pox upon the mechanical beast - and then it died.
So here I sit. Sans air. Sans humour. Sans, if I had to guess, a trip to the beach this year.
What is it I always say about karma?