Look out, Tech Show, here comes anti-matter girl!

I'm afraid to touch anything. I've been experiencing a string of technology failures, and my sphere of destruction seems to be growing.

First, it was the horn in the car. I tried to be cute this weekend and honk as we passed our friends in the street, but ended up looking like a doofus when no sound come out.

Luckily, no one was watching my next technology failure, as I tried over and over to push the toast into the toaster, with no success, going from one outlet to another. Later, when Christian drove the car, the horn (and the speaker -- that had nothing to do with me) suddenly started working again. Ditto with the toaster.

On Monday morning I arrived to find our server had crashed. It broke repeatedly and was finally taken out on a stretcher today. When I tried to scan something, the scanner didn't work, and now one of the printers doesn't seem to be working. I think I better go. I'm going to walk really carefully, and try not to touch the train.

They're going to love me at the Tech Show tomorrow . . .

Coincidence? I think not

T2 went for his three-year check-up yesterday.  He was:

Three years and three months old;

Three feet and three inches tall; and 

Thirty-three pounds.

("Congratulations, it's a cube!")

Co-inky-dinky?  I don't know, but I feel like I should play all threes in the lottery . . .