I'm really starting to believe that the building where I work is cursed.
You might remember my Christmas Eve post, recounting how one of our receptionists had been killed in a car accident on her way to work that morning. A week or so before that, another woman in our building was in a car accident that broke her back and hip; a co-worker's elderly mother fell and messed up one of her two replacement hips; and another co-worker's elderly mother and brother had a fire in their townhouse, and are still in hospital recovering.
Within the past week, another co-worker's elderly mother contracted pneumonia and was put into an induced coma to give her heart and respiratory system a rest from the titanic struggle they were going through. And then on Tuesday, yet another co-worker got a call from his homeland of Estonia, reporting the death of his father.
Some of us are ready to call in an exorcist or an aboriginal shaman to purify our building.