Today, when I was interviewing Linden Lab’s (think Second Life) Cory Ondrejka, he made mention of how most people start superstitions by correlation/causation errors.

Meaning, most people make flimsy connections between an event to a fairly unrelated result, thereby creating illogical patterns and superstitions.

Tell me about it. I have some self-created ones, from not thinking of a final, hoped-for result (or it won’t ever come true), to the importance of lucky items of clothing (not the most original, admittedly).

And I have another. Which is that if someone is inexplicably unpleasant to me first thing in the morning, I will almost certainly have a rough day, possibly ending with me catching a glimpse of poo. Okay, no—I just made the last part up. But going by my usual correlation/causation process, that might just work out as a regular superstition, soon enough.

This morning, some ridiculous car cut me off in traffic by swerving in and out of the lanes behind me, between the cars, and landing up a hairsbreadth in front of my bumper after doing so. All because I had tuned out of a conjested lane in front of him at the same time he was, and I suppose he didn’t appreciate being behind anyone at the time.

I noticed that he had stuck a crest of sorts in his front grill. What is it with cars that do that? It’s like the boys in school who wear t-shirts saying they belong to the International Federation of Slackers—totally fictional and pretty redundant, really.

Well this guy’s crest, I think, was a gold AA one. Though not fictional, does stand for a number of curious assumptions to me; an Association membership means tow services and help in time of breakdowns and flat tyres.

Which is fairly ironic, going by the way he was driving.

Naturally, because of this incident, the string of unfortunate incidences sparked off included me getting lost on a familiar highway (but an unfamiliar exit) to a familiar location (work), coming in and getting a dressing down from my managing editor (deserved, but still…) and finally walking into a cubicle and seeing my colleague’s poo treadmarks.

This is far worse than simply seeing poo which, in my book, already ranks right up there with the worst things that can mark your day. See, the problem lies in that I had already made polite conversation with her before stepping in, so I know who she is.

Because now I was forced to make the connection between her, our polite conversation and the fact that she just left skidmarks. And I couldn’t run out, gasping for air, because she was still on her way out of the toilet.

So this teaches me—and you, dear reader—that the next time someone is unduly unpleasant to you in the morning, gird yourself for the rest of what might befall you in the day.

And most of all, when the inevitable happens, and you have to step into the dreaded shared private space (is that a contradiction?) of an office toilet, wait till your colleague leaves before you step into her just-vacated cubicle. So that if any running out needs to take place, you may proceed safely.