Smoke and Mirrors

If what they say about breaking mirrors and seven years of bad luck is even remotely true then I am in for a hell of a decade (minus three years of course). I guess that means I am either going to be married for the next 7 years or I am not getting married for the next 7 years; depending on which of the above represents my awaiting hell on earth.

I am guessing my ill luck already begun; preceding the breaking of the mirror and the cut on my foot that I am hoping will not prevent me from wearing heels next week.

I have had the longest two weeks imaginable. My parents were visiting and being the thoughtful people they are, they decided that the best place to bunk would be their single and obscenely lost daughter’s house. I guess I should have expected it considering they left me the house when they flew out.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents… to bits; at least one of them… the one that raised me into the wonderful law abiding citizen that I am… (Don’t laugh). The other, I consider as just a sperm donor and not even a good sperm at that… all I got from it was a very hairy epidermis and an insatiable need for sex and alcohol. So the alcoholic nympho has daddy issues… no shock there, right?

I may not be fond of the man, but I will at least be grateful. Even with his shortcomings he still provided us with a pretty decent life, no complains there. Though if I do die of tuberculosis or lung cancer in spite of never having smoked a cigarette all my life, I blame it on you daddy, I blame it on you and those strangely nicely scented things you have been smoking all my life.

If there is one thing that the man taught me it is… well not much comes to mind; unless promiscuity and alcoholism count as life lessons… I love him all the same…him and the house, the car the insurance… (so am just a lil bit spoilt, shocker??? There are plenty of problems in this world, we can’t all worry about rent; though I still worry about fuel prices and recently I hear I should be stocking up on maize flour) Anyway, turns out money can buy love so for all you absentee dads out there; there is still plenty of hope if you have a fat wallet and a giving heart.  

So the highlights of my weeks away; you haven’t missed much: the folks moved in, moved out and left behind the unmistakable scent of daddy’s cigars. I swear the house seems cloudy ever since he stepped in. I just dropped them at the airport, came back ready to dive back into my life, broke the bathroom mirror, got a glass cut and now… now am headed out to haven… my little paradise on earth aka the wines and spirits at lavington shopping centre; imma grab me a bottle of wine, maybe something stronger… who am I kidding; am definitely going for a bottle of tequila.