The other day I was telling someone that bad things tend to happen in threes. You know, like walking under a ladder brings bad luck as does breaking a mirror.
So after I face-planted into a pile of dump mulch the other day and then ended up with blue hands while dyeing my jeans darker the other night, I have been waiting for the third thing.
I thought the bird falling down the chimney was it, but it wasn't.
It wasn't even the second bird falling down the chimney the next morning - I know right! What are the chances of another bird falling down the chimney and flying into my windows the very next morning! If I was betting woman I would have made a packet with those odds.
But no, the third thing was a whole lot scarier. I think I tempted Fate by thinking a bird in my house was bad enough to be the third bad thing. It wasn't.
I have just got home from the hospital where my mum was admitted earlier today with rather severe chest pains.
She's had all sorts of tests and scans and x-rays and such to try and work out what caused it but nothing is showing. The docs have told her that even though her results are showing nothing, they can't rule out a series of small heart attacks. Heart attacks. In multiple. That's a whole lot of scary right there. They're keeping her in overnight to monitor her and see if they can pinpoint the cause. Like I said, scary.
I don't think I like bad things happening in threes.