There are those days when it is such a pleasure to be me! I call it LFS: lucky fucker syndrome. To the casual bystander it looks as if you are just the luckiest guy around, and those days, I do cherish them.
However, the general public does not understand that people with LFS have aqcuired this survival mechanism because they need it. People with LFS are generally so stupid that they need the luck to make up for the hardship that they have caused themselves in the first place.
Let's say (just hypothetically ofcourse) that Pablo puts his passport in a bank safe and will pick it up on the way to the airport but forgets that banks are closed on Monday after X-mas, when his is flying.. Let's just say that he then talks to the KLM and they are able to change his flight at no cost to him. LFS, which, by the way has a genetic component, at work. Hypothecial of course. We celebrate this of course as invincible good luck and a distinct motivator to open a bottle of forgotten wine. (Now that is an oxymoron if I ever heard of one: a forgotten bottle).
Suppose you get a grant for a greenhouse, you forget to pay taxes over it and one day you get a nastygram from the IRS stating that you owe 1400 dollars. It could happen of course. Well, people with LFS then call the county office and ask if they could cleanout the road ditch at the south side of the farm. And next thing you know there is a dozer, a truck, a laser level, two shovels to lean on and major earthmoving for a couple of days, probably about 1400 bucks worth.
Again, to the casual visitor it appears as if I pooped in the same bucket as the pig: nope, just darwinisting my way out of it, and let's call it even.
Pieter Los, born in Scotland, raised in the Netherlands, lost in the USA. .