Walking home from ice cream today, a couple of women in a seemingly meaningful, teary embrace stopped their tender moment to get out of our way. Penelope's post-ice cream screams were reminiscent of a fire engine, clearing the way for our head-hung family to pass.
Just a few minutes later, the wheel of my beloved stroller fell off. Plop. One second I had four wheels. The next – three.
And I cried over this stroller, which I am in love with, as though I had lost a friend. And in a sense, I had. The stroller allows me to walk miles, clearing my thoughts and frustrations and problems. And now, it's missing a wheel, although Steve thinks he might have fixed it (fingers crossed).
This fiasco-like problem comes on the heels of the rude backing out from the guy who was going to buy our car (after we took it off the market two weeks ago) and the possibility that the bike buying will get put on hold.
I think sometimes that karma is not on my side, despite my best intentions. Maybe I should say screw karma and buy an SUV and throw fast food bags out the window as I pass a nature preserve. But with my luck, karma would start paying attention to me then.
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