Unbreakable? I Think Not.

I'm breaking stuff and I don't know why. And if I'm not breaking something, I'm losing something. It is as though I've invoked some mysterious mummy's curse that, rather than involving me being killed by a guy wrapped in bandages or being eaten by carnivorous Egyptian scarabs, has to do with me destroying things that make my life more convenient.

The last three days:

Wednesday, while driving to Utica with the girls to drop off the newsletter file to the printer, Maryn tells me to shut off the radio so it won't distract her from counting in her head (she was trying to count the minutes until we arrived). I shut it off and not only does the music stop but the digital clock disappears. Suddenly, no radio and no clock and they're not coming back.

Yesterday, I pick Suzanne up from work and, as she comes out the door, she looks at the van and gives it the "Something's wrong" stink eye. She gets in and asks, "Where's the hub cap?" The plastic wheel cover is missing from the front, driver's side tire. Now our van looks completely ghetto.

Last night, I knock my glasses off my night stand and when I reach over to turn on the lamp to retrieve them, the lamp knob snaps off in my hand. No more lamp.

Early, early this morning (3 a.m.) I wander into the bathroom, do my business, try to flush, and the toilet handle falls off onto the floor.

Also this morning, once at work, I opened my office window to let in a breeze and one of the small (8x5) panes of glass popped out and fell three stories to the stairwell below where it shattered.

I know I am only encouraging the mummy's curse of destruction by asking this but: what next?