Smashed spider weaves web of bad luck |

Smashed spider weaves web of bad luck

Eeek! Theres a SPIDER in the sink! I squealed to husband-head one morning as he headed into the shower.Dont worry, Little Miss Muffet, Ill save you, husband-head said as he padded over to the faucet and turned on the water, washing the spider down the drain.I looked at him in horror.Do you realize what you just did? I cried. Now well have all kinds of bad luck!Luck, shmuck, husband-head poo-pooed. I dont believe in all that superstitious stuff.Several weeks later, wed forgotten all about the incident.Over the next month, however, we received a call that a family member was gravely ill. Then my old car died and we had to cough up the money for a new one. Next, a valued co-worker at my job quit. Then one of our beloved cats had to be put down suddenly. Our home computer began to go on the blink, and a request to the phone company to add a call-waiting feature resulted in the operator accidentally shutting off our service altogether for nearly 24 hours.You know, I dont expect every day to be like something out of a Mary Poppins movie, but for the love of Pete, this is getting ridiculous, I mused out loud to husband-head.A few days later, husband-head announced that he had to go on a three-day business trip to Las Vegas.Try not to lose all your money in the casino, I teased as I kissed him good-bye.Try not to crash our new car, he answered back seriously.Not half an hour after he left, a trusted newspaper source called, angry about something hed heard and demanding an explanation. A few hours later, one of my editors called with a problem that took hours to resolve.I sat at the kitchen table that afternoon with my head in my hands.Thats it, nothing else can go wrong today, I said, hoping my affirmation would stop the streak of bad news.The phone rang again.It was the veterinarians office telling me my cats ashes had come back and I could come pick them up.No, no, no, I said under my breath, crying over the loss of my cat. I cant deal with that right now.In fact, I was ready to be put down myself.With husband-head gone, our two yellow Labs seemed rather depressed as well, so that evening I decided to run to the grocery store to get them some rawhide bones to cheer them up.As I left the store parking lot, I waited behind a big pickup truck at the stop sign.It started to move, but instead of going forward, the truck moved backwards right into the front end of our new car.Ive had this car for four days and this is the second time Ive driven it, I said to the woman as we exchanged insurance information.But I couldnt get too upset because at this point the whole day was so bad it had almost become comical. I came home and called my best friend, Marianne, for some relief.Wow, what a horrible day, she commiserated. Whatd you guys do? Kill a spider or something?Yeah, now that you bring it up, we did, I confessed.Well, if I were you, Id go to bed and pull the covers over my head, Marianne advised. And whatever you do, dont turn on the oven, the microwave or even light a candle.The next morning, I peered out from the blankets wondering if it was safe to emerge from the bed.Does everybody still have two eyes, two ears, a nose, a tongue and a tail? I asked the dogs and the cat fearfully.Nobody answered, but they all made it clear they desperately wanted to go pee.A little while later, husband-head called and I relayed the events of the previous day.Ill be home tomorrow, he assured me. Everything will be fine.Its all because of the spider, you know, I informed him. Thats why weve had such rotten luck.I made a mental note not to step on a crack in the sidewalk, break a mirror or walk under a ladder.When husband-head came home the next evening, things were starting to look up. My work problems had been taken care of and the car damage had been paid for in full.See, that had nothing to do with a spider or stupid superstitions, husband-head admonished as he sat at the table and paid the bills. By the way, what is the date tomorrow?Friday the 13th Heidi Rice is a Rifle correspondent for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Visit her Web site at

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