Am I a (devastatingly charming) fatalist? Maybe so, but good shoes and superhuman balance are the sort of things that promote overconfidence. Also, and this part was crucial to my worry, it was Tuesday. And not Super Tuesday either, just regular old vanilla-flavored Tuesday.
I suppose it might have dawned on me that it was also the birthday of Abraham Lincoln, emancipator extraordinaire and author of the epic book, Who Freed The Slaves? (I did, I did!): the Autobiography of Abraham Lincoln (Smokey Robinson Press, 1864, $19.95 US/$24.95 CANADA, also available in eBook format from amazon.com). It's just that it was snowing, and I wasn't in a very Abraham Lincoln-ey mood, if you know what I mean. I know it was only two days before Valentine's Day, and I should have been fully in the spirit of the holiday by then, but I just couldn't get it going. I don't know what was wrong with me.
I think I'm going to have to blame Jesus for this one.
Thanks for making it snow two days before Valentine's Day, Jerk. And don't go blaming the Easter Bunny like You did last year. You should awaken to the potential consequences of slipping on my way home from the Ho-Ho-Kus train station and blah blah blah whatever puke.
I hope You get struck by lightning.
Kiss my shiny, caramel-colored butt,
Above: Jesus Christ statue in Rio de Janeiro gets struck by lightning. Not pictured: the butt-kissing.