A Streak of Bad Luck

It's all my fault. A week or two ago, I caught myself thinking how things have been running a little too smoothly around here. Pretty sure I jinxed us. Sure enough, our streak of bad luck began last Thursday at approximately 10:05 pm. Here's a rundown of events since that moment:

• Thursday night, B hit a deer on his way home from work. Literally a stone's throw from our front door. He's OK. The deer's not. Poor thing. 
• The next morning, we packed up and headed for Tahoe. Hudson experienced his first bout of carsickness. Thankfully, no throwing up. Just some stomach pain and pale-facedness. 
• Charlotte's on a teething rampage. She's now sleeping in one- to two-hour stretches instead of the luxurious four to five I've become accustomed to. 
• On our way home from Tahoe there was one of those "don't-make-me-stop-this-car" kind of incidents culminating with B veering off the highway to restore order to the backseat.
• After that, we stopped in Sacramento for lunch only to find out that my favorite nacho establishment is out of business.
• We finally get home to find the deer-damaged car now has a dead battery in the garage (my bad). It won't shift out of park, and because it's centered in the garage (also my bad), we can't pull the other car in to jump it. Oops.
• There's a gopher digging up the dying grass in my back yard.
• Monday night there was a stray toothpick on the floor (from a magic trick H and I had been perfecting). I shuffled barefoot across the floor, and said toothpick was rammed in between my toes. Awesome.
• Tuesday night: I got Charlotte out of the tub. She desperately wanted the phone, which was on the floor. I gave in and let her have it while I finished diapering her. She promptly dialed 911. The dispatcher told me that an officer had to come even though it was an accident. The officer came, and Hudson was afraid that Charlotte was being hauled off to jail. {Even if they had taken her to the slammer, they probably would have returned her quickly when they realize she doesn't sleep. Ever.} Luckily, the officer was really nice.
• Tuesday night, after the 911 incident: I trimmed H's toenails, only to find that his big toe is swollen and infected. Thank heavens that Dr. Dad has loads of experience when it comes to removing nasty green goo from infected extremities.

So here we are: Wednesday morning. It's "my day" with the car. I owe H some mini-golf for his patience with our house-bound week thus far. OK, so our streak of bad luck isn't all that terrible. Mostly just comical. But still. Sheesh. I hope your week's going smoother than mine. :)

Oh, and about the picture: I figured you wouldn't want to see the toothpick protruding from my foot, or H's gross toe, (lucky for you I didn't take pictures of either) so I'm giving you a picture of B jumping from the pier.