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This is how you can tell when the Universe personally hates you:
Not when you get rear-ended by a little old lady while you've got a good friend holding hundreds of dollars worth of art glass in the car.
Not when it takes five months of unceasing pain after said accident before anyone bothers to figure out you've got a torn muscle in your shoulder.
Not when, a week after you finally get a shot in said shoulder and the pain miraculously ceases and by Ghu you're almost your old self again, you then get broadsided by an 18-year-old kid blowing a traffic light and causing the airbag to slam into the very same shoulder (*and* giving you a concussion to boot.)
No.
After all that, when you are finally lying in your own bed feeling miserable and dizzy and stressed out about everything, and spend hours trying to fall asleep, and when you finally do manage to doze off at like two o'clock in the morning the cat suddenly decides she really wants to curl up ON YOUR FACE...
...and the cat has a dingleberry...
...*That's* when you know.
Not when you get rear-ended by a little old lady while you've got a good friend holding hundreds of dollars worth of art glass in the car.
Not when it takes five months of unceasing pain after said accident before anyone bothers to figure out you've got a torn muscle in your shoulder.
Not when, a week after you finally get a shot in said shoulder and the pain miraculously ceases and by Ghu you're almost your old self again, you then get broadsided by an 18-year-old kid blowing a traffic light and causing the airbag to slam into the very same shoulder (*and* giving you a concussion to boot.)
No.
After all that, when you are finally lying in your own bed feeling miserable and dizzy and stressed out about everything, and spend hours trying to fall asleep, and when you finally do manage to doze off at like two o'clock in the morning the cat suddenly decides she really wants to curl up ON YOUR FACE...
...and the cat has a dingleberry...
...*That's* when you know.
