My grandmother was superstitious. She taught me all sorts of little sayings about losing things and finding things and dropping things and breaking things. She avoided walking under ladders, which only seems to make sense for the person on the ladder and the one under the ladder. She believed that good things and bad things both came in sets of three.
Still, when a couple things go wrong in a short amount of time, I do wonder briefly if there's another one on the way. This time there was.
I've been treating Fudge for his infection, giving him his scary pills three times a day. Today he's taking his last dose and we'll both be happy about that.
I've been dutifully putting ointments in Noah's eyes three times a day and I'm starting to see an improvement.
It looks like all three are getting back to normal, so maybe now we can hope for three good things to happen.