It's true, I'm cursed.

"Hey hon?"

"Yeah?"

"We really need to fix the toilet."

"What this we? It's your curse."*

"Fuck. It is."

*He's right. Going back to my apartment in Chicago with two roommates, I've always had a toilet that breaks. This toilet, a relic from the fifties in a fantastic shade of powder blue, has been among the worst.