Lately, Becca and I have taken to blaming all trivial happenings (such as picking horrible letters in Scrabble) on a metaphysical entity known as “the fates.”
A typical scenario and conversation follows thus:
Me: I have the worst letters ever.
Becca: You and me both.
Me: No look – (shows a succession of A, I, I, I, Y, O). The fates must hate me.
Me: (gets two Scrabbles in a row and scores 140 points more than I normally would)
Becca: The fates are against me.
I’ve decided that in my own personal mythology, there are Scrabble Fates that interfere in the affairs of mankind by granting us favor with an even ratio of consonants to vowels (as well as Z, Q or X, a.k.a. the Mother Lode letters) and demonstrating their wrath by plaguing us with either all vowels or consonants. There is simply no way to appease the fates, as far as I can tell. They have a capricious will of their own….