MotherReader

I have always thought that I am not a lucky person. I am lucky in having a wonderful family, good job, nice house, steady income — all those important basics. But when it comes to the little things, stuff just kind of happens to me.

If I leave early for an important meeting, I will get a phone call, have trouble parking, and take the elevator to the wrong floor. If I happen to have the coolest distraction for kids in my very own car, I will break it within five minutes. And the list goes on and on.

But yesterday I realized the true nature of my state of being. It’s not that I’m unlucky — a label that never really fit anyway — it’s something more, something that accounts for the unique quality of my brand of unluckiness, which is three parts bad luck and one part funny.

I am an Irony Magnet.

Let’s look at the example of Kids Lit Happy Hour, shall we?

I had planned to go to New York City for the weekend, but my long-time friend was unable to accommodate my family and me. We looked for hotels, but couldn’t find anything close to reasonable. At that point, we had to bow out of the visit. I debated taking the train up Monday to attend the Sweet & Vicious party and stay with a friend who recently moved to the city. But I’d have to spring for the round-trip train ticket, which seemed a little much basically to go to a Happy Hour, even if you’ll meet some cool authors.

Taking off the five percent discount my friend assured me that one can usually find on the Internet, it would cost $171 for the train.

We decided to go to Virginia Beach to visit my mom, brother, and baby niece. We had to board our diabetic cat, since she needs shots twice a day.

(Quick Irony Magnet Quiz. Which cat requires the twice-a-day shots, expensive medicine, and routine vet check-ups? Is it:

1. the beautiful white cat the girls got as a kitten who curls up next to any sleeping person and is a joy to watch?
2. the sweet older cat who never scratches or bites and purrs when you just look at her because she is so happy to be with you?
3. the neurotic cat who lives under our bed and only comes out at night, when she alternately climbs all over us wanting attention while we sleep and jumps down to barf on the carpet?)

The boarding at the vet isn’t much, but they charge eight dollars to give her each shot. Then, as it turns out, she had fleas — already ironic enough, since she never goes outside — and had to be treated with special vet stuff. Then the vet included in the full course of flea treatment for the next six months in her discharge package. The final cost of my cat’s stay at the veterinarian so we could go home for the weekend and I wouldn’t spend money on the trip to New York City?

It was $171.38.

You see? Three parts bad luck, one part funny. MotherReader, Irony Magnet.

(Oh, and you’re right. The answer is c, the neurotic, needy, barfing cat.)