There’s no scientific proof but I’m sure misfortune generates its own momentum. This morning I could not find the keys I’d left in my pocket last night. Until, after a frantic house-wide search, I found them in my pocket. I missed my train. The next was delayed. By the time I’m in Town, the usual bedlam is in full swing. Three tubes too full before I can inject myself inside. Finally, nearing my stop, I take out my pass in readiness. As we pull up I stow my book. I’ve lost my pass. I can’t leave without it and my frenzied search continues as the doors close. At that very moment, I find my badge, already pinned in place. Arse. Predictably, the next station is ten minutes away and there’s a depressing wait for a return. Maybe it’s not misfortune’s momentum but the butterfingers of a fool trying to grip the day.
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