Triskaphobia is the fear of the number 3.
Whilst I recognize that this is a real phobia and I in no way mean to make light of any Mental Health issues, I wouldn’t exactly say that I have a phobia of the number 3, it’s more like a healthy respect for it and the impending doom that is about to follow!
Okay, maybe a little dark.
I wrote a similar post about this a couple of weeks ago, about how I tend to have a sixth sense, or mother’s intuition – whatever you want to call it: My ‘Three Strike” Superstition
Basically it’s a belief that bad things happen in threes, and if you ignore it, more like sixes, then nines, etc. If anyone is in any doubt about this, or thinks I am over-reacting and reading into too many things, or maybe a little too superstitions, let me share what happened on Monday.
We planned to leave home at 06.30am for Joburg, a 3 hour drive away – I was up from 05.00am. We are towing a borrowed trailer loaded with a mix of new and second hand furniture to furnish a little flat/cottage we are taking on as a base in Joburg that we can make our ‘home from home’ since we spend so much time up there and hotels are not always ideal experiences when you have kids.
So the kids and husband are in the car, the trailer is hitched and I lock the house up and leave via the garage. I use the remote to close the garage door and turn to get in the car. Something told me to look back at the house and as I did I saw the garage door start slowing down and then it sort of stuck on the right hand side but not the left and started grinding down at an angle. I quickly paused it using my remote and pressed the remote again to reopen it. I told my husband and his response was “No” (I’m sure he was only really worried about his motorbike in the garage, nevermind the house etc).
Sure enough it was stuck. Between the two of us we managed to disconnect the arm that is linked to the motor and to slide it closed with a bit of brute force and desperation. We get back in the car and I look at my husband, raise my eyebrows and say, “One!”
He knows what I mean. I mean “One down, two to go …” the worry is what could the other two be?
It’s now 07.15am and we’re running behind schedule. We stop at the complex office and arrange for someone to come repair the door while we’re away for the day, and head off.
We get to the last filling station on our way out of town and stop to fill up the car. My husband gets out to check the tyre pressure on the loaded trailer etc and make his usual safety checks. I think nothing of it until he opens the door to get back in and then he doesn’t actually get in. I look up from my phone and after one look at his face I say, “What?”
He explained that the wheel bearings are ‘gone’ on the trailer and that he’s not prepared to risk traveling 3 hours on the N1 with a loaded dodgy trailer.
With no other choice, we go back home, unhook the trailer and leave it on the drive outside our house (it’s a secure complex) and ask the maintenance supervisor to please keep an eye on it. We didn’t have time to make alternative arrangements for another trailer at this stage. We just dumped it, fully loaded and go. It’s 08.15am.
The day progressed in a blur of activity and appointments and hanging curtains and bored grumpy kids. By 04.30pm we still haven’t done everything we needed to do and so resign ourselves to waiting out the rush hour traffic and driving home in the dark – something we try to avoid when the kids are in the car with us. In the mean time we have managed to get hold of another trailer to take back to load up and bring back next time.
05.30pm – We go out for a bite to eat and to let the kids play and burn off some energy (it’s not about mom guilt, really!), and mommy had a well deserved glass of wine … or two!
07.45pm – we put two very tired kids in their car seats, buckle them up and whilst I’m faffing over the kids, my husband does his safety check of the vehicle and trailer.
And guess what?!?! The trailer connection has blown the fuses for the tail lights on the car and the trailer. All that was working was the headlights and indicators/hazard lights.
So there you have it: Three! I shit you not!
Thank you universe! I should have known!
After sorting it out (at 08.00pm on a Monday night), we eventually got home around 23.30. Tempers were running high and exhaustion was prevalent. We still had to sort out the broken trailer and reorganise the cars so we could actually store everything securely and get to work/school the next day!
This is just another example of how ‘bad things’ happen in threes! I am begging someone to tell me that it’s all in my head. BEGGING!!??!!
That, or can someone please tell me how to break the ‘curse’ after “one!”