Bad luck comes in many forms.
For some it might be a broken mirror, finding themselves cursed with seven years of bad luck. Not to mention the added fun of finding shards of glass in the carpet for ages to come.
For others it might be walking under a ladder, or in the path of a cat.
Bad luck might be a broken nail, or tottering off the kerb into the road landing in a heap with no dignity and an ankle that will swell up to the size of a football. Or it might be falling down some steps and turning over that ankle in another way, but still with the same result.
It might be a losing bet.
It might be ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife. It’s definitely not ironic, but it is bad luck.
Or it might be something as simple as, I don’t know, washing your girlfriend’s white dressing gown and then, as you take it out of the machine, it swings around and makes contact with a dish containing the remains of a cottage pie. And despite every ounce of your being – and that’s a lot of ounces – hoping against hope that no staining will have occurred, the bottom of the dressing gown is awash with orange stains because even the briefest of contact with any tomato-based sauce is enough to change the colour of anything.
I mean, for chuff’s sake.
I have been washing clothes as a grown human for some years now. Not once have I managed to get freshly washing clothes to come into contact with a dish that is waiting on the washing up process. Yes, I will wash tissues – in fact, I have washed one tissue twice today because it was in the pocket of the offending article – and, on occasion, money (coins, not notes) because I don’t check pockets often enough. But this has never happened before.
I toyed with the idea of leaving it. Feigning ignorance, I thought, might be the best solution. But what if we didn’t have anything tomato-based for a while? I would have to convince her it was an old stain that just wouldn’t shift and that she shouldn’t go around dipping the ends of her dressing gown in such culinary treats.
I’m not sure that would wash with her though…
Unlike the dressing gown.