Rule of 3

This afternoon at the gym an alarming series of events was set into motion by an unassuming coworker. As you may or may not know, I am not capable of having only one freak accident at a time, they come in groups of three (or more) which I now refer to as the rule of three. There was the time I was struck by a senior citizen in a motorized shopping cart, and then slipped on a banana peel and sprained my ankle while grocery shopping or the time I got stung by a bee, a hornet and a yellow-jacket in one afternoon at a picnic. I think you get the picture. It is probably also worth mentioning that I am a little clumsy. I single-handedly drove several ballet teachers into early retirement as a young child. I have been known to crash into tables, walls, file cabinets and other seemingly stationary objects for no apparent reason, without warning or the aid of alcohol.

Earlier today while huffing and puffing on the stair stepper, a rogue exercise ball pelted me in the back. After a narrow escape from the grinding inner cogs of the stair stepper, I turned to discover that this ball had in fact been launched at me dodge-ball style by a coworker. He stood there grinning in a manner that could be described as nothing less than demonic. “I could have been maimed!” I informed him. He appeared puzzled, yet amused; clearly he was unfamiliar with the rule of three.

Several minutes later I switched to the treadmill. Much safer, it’s a flat surface right? Wrong. Moments after the treadmill started moving I noticed a marked increase in speed, my hand had evidently been resting on the speed up button. After some flailing of arms and a plaintive yelp, I noted the console was getting further away. As for the recommended method of exiting a treadmill, I *do not* suggest airborne dismount off the back.

Upon returning to the office I grabbed my lunch out of the fridge. Better skip the microwave meal, I might burn myself or set it on fire. I started with the grapefruit. Upon slicing into it, I promptly squirted myself in the eye. The bad eye. Ow.

I’m hoping that, cosmically speaking, nearly being ground up by the stair stepper counted as freak accident number one because if it didn’t, I’m sure as heck not getting in the car to drive home!