Poor Jamie. He graduated on Monday and had a lovely day making his momma proud and posing about in his gown and hat and eating posh nosh only to go back to his car, which had been broken into. Poor Jamie. He has had serious bad luck with this car. Gear boxes and doors and things that I can't remember the names of. Just one thing after the other.
I wonder if it's because he's so superstitous. He always mumbles something when he sees a magpie. I, on the other hand, am completely unsuperstitious. Can't be bothered with them. Too many to remember. Don't step on a crack, don't split posts. I swear it gets to the point where people are just making these things up and people won't eat pasta on every 3rd Thursday of every month because it's bad luck.
I think it's all back to front. The things that are meant to bring you bad luck bring you good luck, and vice versa. On my way to work this morning I walked under a ladder. I was sent home half an hour early. Maybe jamie needs to break some mirrors or something to have some good luck with his car for a change.
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