Seven years bad luck

Yesterday was a Dunkin Donuts morning. I never have dunkin donuts morning, but yesterday, I knew it was going to take a serious coffee to jumpstart me. I hopped in my parents trusty van in my pajamas and camo hat, incognito, and started backing out of the campsite checking over my right shoulder for little kids, animals, trees, and such when I hear CCCRRRUUUNNNCHH. S***! I forgot there was a left side of the car that needed some attention. "Maybe, nobody heard that." I thought to myself, eyes darting around, hoping I could avoid getting picked on until after my caffeine had kicked in despite the fact that Liz was sitting in the passenger seat watching the whole thing go down. "Ssshhh. Ssshhh!" I said to hear urgently, waving like she was the one being loud and about to get me busted. No such luck in hiding my misdeeds. At 9 am at a campground you can still hear a pin drop. My tree bashing wasn't going unnoticed. The left mirror had managed to remain sturdily fascened to the car, but the actual mirror had smashed completely. "Dammit, I busted my mom's car and now I have seven years bad luck on top of it. UGH.". But then I thought "hey," relaxing a little bit, " I have seven years bad luck. YES! I have seven years, guys!". And THAT my friends is from the head of an incurable optimist. All is well that ends well and anthing that promises seven years is good enough for me.