Domestic Curses

May none of your bills ever be right. And may all of your communications to correct the mistake make matters worse and take up vast quantities of your time. And may you never get to the end of the contact centre options, and each time the person you are trying to get through finally rings you back, you are in the loo.

May your oven and dishwasher thermostats expire at Christmas, when it's your turn to entertain the family and everyone has turned up, for once. And may it be one of those occasions where Uncle Joe has decided to tell his children that he is not their father and little Billy gets mumps..

May your lights fuse regularly, but only at times when your torch is missing, and, though you have a houseful of candles, you cannot find the matches and the dog has a violent stomach upset in the dark.

May children invariably spill sticky, brightly coloured drinks on your most expensive and palest fabrics.

May you only find where the cat has shat after getting back into bed, with bare feet, after that 3am trip to the loo.

May your roof leak like a sieve and the builders find a colony of very rare bats in your attic.

May the houses all around you be rented out to students.

May each household machine, in turn, fail in such a way that the person on the other end of the relevant helpline finally says "That shouldn't happen" and "It might be cheaper to buy a new one."

May you never be able to obtain all the parts you require for a piece of IKEA furniture, and may all the queues in customer service be interminable.

May your front door lock jam on the day when you have a job interview and none of your family or friends are available to help. And may your drains block during a prolonged rainstorm which carries on for hours afterwards.

May the ballcock in your cistern break on the first day of your absence on an expensive foreign holiday. And may no craftsman ever turn up at the time or on the day they promised, including the locksmith, plumber and drain specialist.

May you have pigeons in your loft, wasps in your mortar, mice under your floorboards and rats in your garden. And may your favourite plants always mysteriously wither, while weeds flourish, your bathroom grout acquire immovable mould and the bath sealant leak.

May your friends never be able to find your house or, if they do, only be able to park miles away and then wrench their ankles on poor paving walking to your house. And may they only ever turn up with appalling wine.

May your car break down in the middle of nowhere, in a land where you do not speak the language, your phone does not work and there are no phone boxes. And, when you do find a garage, may it take two weeks to find the relevant part and the nearest town in which you need accommodation is full of a brass band convention.

May your satnav always lead you into dead ends without the space to turn the car, miles from your destination.

May your shoes never fit and your clothes always shrink in the wash.

May every day be a bad hair day.

©Alexa Duir 2003

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