Aside from the incident with the eagle, itís been a funny old week. Started to look into doing a Masters in English, no idea yet if I will go through with this or not, as it is so damn expensive. Education is something you can do if you are wealthy. You can call me a lot of things, wealthy isnít one of them. Since I decided that a ëcareerí is a stupid concept that was invented by the devil, and Iíll have no truck with it, money has taken something of a nose dive in this house.
Work has an ISO Quality inspection tomorrow, I know that Iíll have them come around and ask me stupid questions as my allocation of luck was stolen at birth. Iím forced to live a luckless existence in which seemingly random evil happens to me. I have no clue who got my luck but I can imagine them living very well off it.
There are people that say you make your own luck. If this is true Iím yet to see any form of evidence of it. What would it be made out of anyway? I can imagine the process looking a bit like Percyís; “Iíve made purest Green, milord.” Whatever, HM Government would make it illegal almost immediately. Either that or Red Dwarf was right and luck is a virus that, ironically, you have to be lucky enough to catch.
To cap it all off one of our cats has decided to dissect a pigeon on our back lawn. Poor thing was still alive when I went to see what the hell was going on, I should have wrung its neck to stop it from suffering, but thatís easier said than done. Especially when its neckís six foot from its body.
I guess sometimes your level of luck is only quantifiable when you have a comparison; I think the pigeon had far less luck than I.