Such an odd morning. Started off with a letter from my GP, who I went to last week about my tonsils, which included the phrase "I hope your face is better." My face? My face?
Then I went to go pick up a package from the Post Office, and the postal worker there beckoned me closer, leaned over the counter and said "I have an intuition about you."
"An intuition?" says I, "What is it?"
"You have one brother."
"Yes, I do..."
"I knew it." He nodded wisely.
I backed out of the door, clutching my package to my chest, nervous smile on my face.