Florin Carcu awoke last Friday terrified that something dreadful was about to befall him. He was right:
A superstitious Romanian, who refused to leave his house throughout Friday, the 13th of August to avoid bad luck, died after he was stung by a wasp in his kitchen, police said.
Now, I'm not here to say that Mr. Carcu overreacted to a childish superstition. On the contrary, I think that the poor man under-reacted.
If I ever wake up with the nagging feeling that I'm about to suffer some horrible and undeserved fate, the absolute last setting I would place myself in would be the kitchen.
Think about it. The kitchen is full of all sorts of unpredictable hazards...like the drawer full of knives, the gas cooktop with the leaky valve, the dozens of toxic cleansing liquids under the sink and the cabinet stuffed with precariously stacked cookware. One misstep in there and you’re lying on the floor in a pool of bleach with a cast iron saucepan on your head and a meat cleaver protruding from your abdomen while straining to suck the last few molecules of oxygen out of the room before your house ignites like a gasoline soaked Roman candle in a forest fire.
No thank you. I'd prefer to spend my last hours of cowering madness curled up in my own bed with a half gallon of gin, a carton of smokes and a pointed stick. No dangers there.
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