We all have our quirks. Mine happen to be legion and make no damn sense at all sometimes. But I can totally deal with preferring to keep an even number of fries in each ketchup cup at a fast food place, or driving out of my way to avoid doubling back on a route because doubling back just feels wrong.
I can’t deal with the growing pile of associations I make between totally insignificant stuff and bad luck.
-Example: Spilling any of my soda/tea/beverage of choice, even just a drop on my hand, on my way from the parking lot to my desk in the morning means I’m going to have a bad day. Smaller spills mean smaller irritants or mistakes. I’m not even going to think about the day I had after spilling my apple chai everywhere a year ago.
-Example: I’ve stopped wearing specific bras and pairs of earrings because I’ve had multiple wretched days in them; I really, really like my deer earrings, and my Hohenzollern eagle-looking earrings, but it’s going to be a long time before I’m brave enough to try those again after the days I’ve had wearing them.
-Example: “Some Nights” by fun. popping into my head from 5:30 pm until 9:30 am, even for an instant means a terrible, awful, no-good, very bad day ahead. Period. Trying to distract myself with other music sometimes cancels out the bad luck, but I’ve actually gotten resigned to the inevitable—especially when the damn song keeps intruding no matter what I do. I’ve deleted all the fun. songs off my iPod because “Carry On” leads to “We Are Young” leads to “Some Nights.” But that hasn’t really worked. (I seriously have dozens stories about “SN”/bad luck. I used to love that song, and played it all the time until it racked up too many bad luck points to ignore).
I know full well it’s mostly a self-fulfilling prophecy based on anecdotal evidence that I have bad days/bad luck with all that stuff. I know that. But that doesn’t stop the sheer panic every time the first few seconds of “Some Nights” wanders into my head—actually panicking a little right now, because writing about it means I’m thinking about it, and thinking about it means it’s playing in my head, and as much as I try to convince myself that even if I’m right and the song is bad luck, it totally doesn’t count when I think about it on purpose…that doesn’t make me any less skittish. Because the damn song kept popping into my head the night before last and yesterday I had my first brush with an unreasonable, overly entitled meeting planner and got so mad and frustrated I nearly cried.
I keep telling myself that it’s pure coincidence that I have stressful days every time those Bad Luck Things pop up; sometime I even contemplate having a go at desensitization. But I’m just not brave enough to try right now.
Excuse me while I drown my brain in Beethoven to counter all the fun. in my head so I at least have a change of having a decent day at work tomorrow.