Yesterday we had the Supermoon, as you may have heard, "the brightest moon in almost 70 years," when the moon was full and at its closest point to Earth simultaneously. We won't see one like this again until November 25, 2034.
As the Old Farmer's Almanac notes, there's a lot of luck lore connected to the moon--including this one:
"It is unlucky to have a full Moon on Sunday."
So a SUPER full moon on Sunday must be SUPER bad luck,
It would explain my weird day yesterday. There appeared to be some unusual misfortune. Not just arguable bad luck, like the wicked Cowboys beating the Steelers in a squeaker; after all, I am willing to admit that Cowboys fans, believe it or not, are just as human as normal people, and the same moon was shining on them.
No, I'm talking about the guy who swung a left turn out in front of me on a two-lane 55 mph road while a tailgater was forcing me to keep up to the limit. This was to be a crash, no question, and if he had someone in his passenger seat that person was not going to be saved by an airbag. Somehow I had the presence of mind to shoot onto the shoulder, where I could safely grind to a halt on the gravel and detritus there. The tailgater continued on his merry way behind the guy who'd almost nailed me.
It was a little alarming, but I was unharmed, so, no harm no foul. I ran my mission of mercy and came back home. Later I went out again, and when I had to brake at a stop sign I heard that lovely flap flap flap of a tire that has said Farewell, Cruel World. And my helpful idiot light flashed and dinged Lo Tire.
By the time I got to a parking lot and opened the door, I could hear the tire going HISSSS like in a cartoon. The rear driver's side tire had picked up a little passenger:
That is a freaking metal SPOON. I'm certain it was for some strange, devilish reason along the highway, because to jam that pointy end into my tire would have taken enormous force, like coming to a rapid stop from 55 mph.
This is why James Bond's Aston Martin stops pursuers by shooting spoons out of its rear.
I got where I was going, but before I went home I put on the spare. When I got home, I turned on a light and the bulb blew, then the big dog started to throw up in the hall.
JUST CUT IT OUT, SUPERMOON.
All of this got me thinking about clever story I read ages ago in Asimov's, "Blued Moon" by Connie Willis. I hope she will forgive me for giving away the story's conceit, but here it is (spoiler alert!): when pollution (IIRC) causes an atmospheric change that makes the moon appear blue, all kinds of rare events begin happening to everyone on Earth---everything that happens once in a blue moon.
Could the Supermoon have caused things to happen to me that were superlame?
Maybe. OR maybe Supermoon protected me! After all, the blown lightbulb may have prevented a short; the dog may have puked up something that would have made him sicker if he'd digested it. Of course, the idiot who almost caused a horrible accident did not succeed in doing so by dint of my braking ability, so even if I have to suck up the cost of a new tire, it's a lot better than having to start up car payments again.
So perhaps the events were weird, but any change in luck granted by Moonie may have been good, not bad. I think I'll choose to look at it that way.
Thanks, Supermoon. See you in 18 years,