a series of unfortuante events

If I was a superstitous woman, I’d probably be starting to think that our move this summer, our new house and my new job were cursed. I’m not at all and I don’t believe in that kind of thing but that’s still not stopping me from half wanting to pack us back up to Bangor – the old house hasn’t sold yet, so… it’s theoretically feasible.

It feels like since I accepted this job, everything has gone wrong. I broke my leg, Lucy had a stay in hospital and now Jack’s broken his wrist and suffered a concussion.

We were out walking the dogs yesterday morning, one of them pulled on the lead. Jack pulled back and his foot slipped on a wet leaf. He went down and automatically went to put his hand out to break his fall but it didn’t work, he twisted on it and smacked his head on the ground hard enough to knock himself out. He spent yesterday and last night in hospital, I fell apart a little but I got to bring him home this afternoon. He’s conked out on the couch next to me – it seems neither of us slept very well last night. I probably should have taken a sleeping pill when Lucy took one.

Logically, I know it has nothing to do with moving. That none of it has. Not even the hurricane blustering around us. We’re not that important in the scheme of things. It’s all just been some terrible luck.

Logically, I know that people slip over and land awkwardly all the time. I know that as the body ages, bones break more easily. I’m relieved that the hospital took the time to properly do obs on Jack and kept him in because he had a brain injury and he’s not getting any younger. I’ve got him home, he’s going to be ok. He is ok.

Logically, I know that Lucy has a number of chronic mental health conditions which lead to stays in hospital. This happens on a number of ocassions and moving is stressful no matter how much we tried to cushion the experience for her. We were half-expecting it to happen, although it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s part of her illness, one we all know.

Logically, I know I fell down the stairs because I was carrying too much, wasn’t paying attention and having an argument heated discussion with a colleague. It’s a recipe for disaster.

Logic, however, plays no part in my current status of hysterical woman wanting to wrap up her family and keep them safe.

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