Some people AREN’T born lucky.
I’m one of them.
I wash my car in my driveway on a sunny Saturday afternoon, see.
The temperature outside is a delightful 82 degrees and there isn’t a single cloud in the sky.
I’m humming a happy tune as I dry off the car with a bath towel and then as I step back with a smile to admire my workmanship my neighborhood is suddenly hit with a miniature monsoon with 60-mile-an-hour winds and what sounds like bowling-ball-size raindrops on my windshield.
Let’s face it. For some people there are lots of things in life that never seem to work out quite right.
If I play the daily Ohio lottery I frequently manage to miss winning the cash prize by just one or two numbers.
I buy a $50 shirt with a label that says “One size fits all” and after I wash it once it comes out of the dryer six sizes too small for me.
My car needs gas.
I spot a filling station with no customers at all.
Then I start to pull up to a pump suddenly 11,324 cars I didn’t even notice pull into the station ahead of me.
Every time I make plans to mow my lawn and by the time I get my mower out of the garage my neighborhood gets slammed by 80 mile-an-hour winds and snowflakes as big as Buicks.
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