Stalked By Bad Luck

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I must have the worst luck ever.  Or at least that's the way things seem from my perspective.  Every task I've undertaken lately, no matter how simple it seems at first, always ends up being 10 times harder than it should be.  I could go into detail with my encounter with the harpies that work at the DMV (or DDS as they now call it...probably had to come up with an alias due to multiple death threats from disgruntled customers).  However, I am too upset as a result of my five visits across the river Styx to really comment on it at this point.  Maybe at some point I'll acquire a GA driver's license, but until then at least my VA license still seems to like me.

You may be one of these annoying people who want to tell me that it must be due to negative thinking that these bad things are happening to me.  I can assure you that on multiple occasions I have happily walked into the DMV, called someone, emailed someone, etc expecting no problems whatsoever only to be blindsided with problems that only Hades could invent.

My husband, on the other hand, has the best luck.  He often gets special treatment, easy breaks, and rarely runs into unexpected problems.  As a result, he has the annoying habit of expecting that everything should go great for me too and believes that it must be a result of something I said/did or possibly a genetic predisposition to bad luck that causes me to have such difficulties.  He also tends to overreact and exaggerate claims which leads to conversations like this:
Me: "The DMV said they wouldn't accept the document because it doesn't have a stamp on it and so they won't give me a license."
Husband: "What?! What is the matter with those retards?! If that happened to me I'd take a shit on the counter and tell them to shove those papers up their ass!!"
 For the record, he would not actually take a shit on the counter and even though he may make a smart-ass comment to them, he wouldn't tell them to shove it up their ass either.

 Today was one of those days when it comes to a head for me.  I have reached the limits of giving a shit and aren't quite sure if I should yell, cry, just give up trying to fix things, or lay on the couch for the remainder of the day eating junk food.  I compromised by getting a large Mocha from McDonalds and telling myself to set aside all this angst for the weekend as there isn't anything I can do about it until Monday anyway. Essentially I'm doing what humans tend to do best which is to ignore problems and hope they go away. It's been my experience that this works better than beating your problems to death because they'll just come back as zombie problems anyway and try to eat your brains. When that happens you become the zombie that just causes problems for other people.

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