Hard, Scientific Evidence:
I fell down a flight of stairs yesterday.
And it wasn't one of those "Whoops!" kind of things where you almost miss a step and grab the handrail and then look around to see if anyone saw. No, it was a full-on Chevy Chase, end-over-end, bounce-off-both-walls, land-in-an-obscure-yoga-pose-with-your-underwear-showing spectacle. The only move I left out was landing face-first in a wedding cake.
There has been a flock of crows in our backyard for a week now.
Seriously, even a junior sorcerer-in-training can tell you what that means: you are in for a supernatural shafting to the 10th power.
Our cockapoo keeps dragging her butt on the rug and growling.
Now do you believe me? Animals can sense this stuff, you know. Obviously, she can see that my aura - usually a sparkly goldish-aqua - has gone all crappy gray and she's trying to warn me of my impending doom. Good girl! [Note to self: make carpet-cleaning appointment.]
I can smell it.
For days now, I've been aware of the lingering scent of Ms. Leisenring, my sixth-grade P.E. teacher and freelance emotional terrorist. By this I mean that I have detected the tang of Hai Karate - her signature scent - in my billiard room, in my grocer's freezer section, even in my Monday-night welding class. If being unable to get the image of her salt-and-pepper bob and cat's-eye glasses out of my mind is not a curse, then I don't know what is.
Other possible evidence.
I received the following message on Twitter this morning:
Yeah, you're right. I'm probably just being paranoid.