When I was cleaning the kitchen on Monday, I noticed three wishbones that we had saved from rotisserie chickens.
I decided that Jeff and I needed some luck and I figured that one of us would win each try and maybe get a little lift.
I was wrong. On our first attempt, Jeff and I each ended up with only a small part of the bone, no wish included.
We just looked at each other with our stubby wishbones.
They were symbolic of all our recent bad luck.