...I'm not big on omens.
Of course, Tim's friend John tells the story of driving with his ex-wife to get married. It was a horrible day, snowy and the roads were awful, visibility poor. They debated a while about whether it was lunacy to even head out the door. True love conquers all, however, so off they went. On their journey, a semitruck hit a deer. Half a venison flew from the grill of that truck and landed on the windshield of John's truck, blood everywhere, his woman screaming. John got the truck stopped, no accident involved, had to clean the blood off the window with snow as his affianced bawled her head off in the passenger seat. Then he got back in the truck and they went on ahead an got married.
Note that I said 'ex-wife'. After listening to that story, I did say, "John, the weather...the roads...half a venison on your windshield. Brother?! That was an omen..."
Anyhow, I digress. I'm not a huge believer in omens, but when I hear stories like John's, it's kind of hard not to believe in them, a little anyway.
Which is why I am sitting here in my bathrobe trying to decide whether I should go one step further with this day. I got up to brew my customary two cups of cappuccino, and my coffee pot exploded. Exploded. Bits of plastic everywhere. Sounded like a gunshot. Scared the mess out of me, and made quite a mess in the kitchen as well, water dripping off the ceiling, various decorative tins and glassware knocked for a loop.
*Gray headed woman wrings the tail of her bathrobe belt, and mutters with closed eyes, "I don't believe in omens...I don't believe in omens, I don't, I don't, I don't..."*