Leaving hope

There's something horribly disconcerting about realizing you're living in the multiverse's equivalent of The Monkey's Paw short story.

"Why zamzummim/nephilim, would you ever think that?" you say, oh my non-existent audience.

Well, because every single time something starts to look up in one aspect of my life something else goes horribly wrong. It's like living in a time delayed version of a John Hughes film crossed with David Lynch's Twin Peaks and a tiny bit of Eraserhead for good measure.

I've got a beautiful car and a promising job full of interesting, albeit frustrating, challenges and then terrible things happen, in my case losing a cat and a dog within a fortnight of each other. The dog I was steeling myself for because he'd been sick for three years and it was a quality of life issue, but I really wasn't expecting to lose the cat. She was only two, and she should have lived a good while longer, if only it wasn't for her love of sleeping on the flag road and the driveway.

At least I got to be there and touch my dog while he was put down, but I didn't even get to say goodbye to my cat until she'd been gone for a while.

Anyway universe, you're on notice: no more happy then sad tradeoffs. I can't take any more. There's nothing the monkey's paw can give me that I want to sacrifice anything else for. So cut it the hell out and leave me in peace, ok universe?

Thanks, I appreciate it.