The curse of this date all began when I was a teenager and my boyfriend and best friend were both born on this date (albeit two years apart). They… er… didn’t quite get along (trying to use tact here), and they would make my life miserable. However, even though I haven’t spoken to either of them in over 15 years, the horror of this date has followed me through the decades. Whatever can go wrong, does go wrong. Whatever can’t possibly go wrong, still goes wrong. Every single fucking year.
My current joyous August 31st began today with my 120 pound German shepherd/malamute mix deciding to attack a 10 pound shitzu. This is, of course, completely out of character for my dog, who is always sweet and nice (especially to small dogs). But not today. Oh no, today my dog decides to turn into a snarling, hideous beast hell bent on eating the other dog. Don’t worry, the other dog is fine, but his owner is obviously quite pissed off at me (and rightfully so).
I’m going back to bed and hiding for the rest of the day. Let me know when September begins.