I often joke about being paranoid, but truly, it’s only a joke. Or it was. Now it’s starting to set in, in earnest.
Remember my story from some time ago about biting into an apple turnover and finding my tooth marks in a nice big blob of blue mould contained therein? P-tooey. All of the others purchased at the same time were nice and fresh … except the one I chose.
Last time we went out for Chinese food, who got the cooked caterpillar on a chunk of broccoli on her plate? Nobody else found any extra protein in any of their food.
This evening my thoughtful husband brought home fish and chips, a growing up in England Friday treat in which he still likes to indulge now and then. And in which I like to indulge, too. Who gets the piece of halibut containing the worm? Just a little one and probably quite harmless, but eeeuuuwww anyway.
I could add numerous other examples, but I’m sure that you get the idea.
So tell me, is it just bad luck, or is there something about me that attracts fungi and parasites? I’d really like to know.