On the buses III (i) - feeling lucky?

The thing about getting cursed is that (a) you’re always waiting for something bad to happen, and (b) when something bad does happen you attribute it to the curse - even if you think such stuff is utter nonsense. This is why I avoid psychics, and reading my horoscope. However, I did once, a few years ago, have my cards read by a woman I met at college, while doing my A-levels. She said she had the ‘gift’ - that she could read Tarot cards, and tea-leaves, and see people’s auras. I was intrigued, and who doesn’t wonder what life has in store for them – will it be worth any effort, or would my time be better spent watching the telly and living off social security? (I’m still out on that one, ha!). I visited the woman at her home, and she did a card-reading for me. I could tell she saw something bad: she audibly gasped, and a look of horror momentarily darkened her visage. She wasn’t kidding. I believe, she was a lovely and genuine sort of person - if somewhat misinformed - and I don’t think she was out to scare me. But this wasn’t good news; I could tell. She was reluctant to go into any detail, and she palmed me off with some small comfort about there being a guardian angel looking after me. I asked if she had any vague temporal inclination as to when this misfortune was going to befall me. That way I could make a note of it in my diary, and brace myself for any imminent suffering. I say ‘brace’ myself because you can’t avoid your destiny can you; you just have to get on with it – and hope what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. But, I figured, if you live relatively long enough, by the balance of probabilities something bad is bound to happen to you, anyway - at least once. 
See, this is why I try to avoid this sort of thing: it just leads to unnecessary speculation and anxiety. Curses are a different kettle of fish; however: you can’t really avoid them. They’re thrust upon you whether you like it or not, or whether you deserve it or not. If it wasn’t bad enough going through life dragging the ball and chain of social and economic disadvantage; now, I had the added burden of the curse of the disgruntled gypsy-woman at the petrol station. I wonder how long curses last: do they have a sort of sell-by date, or is there a maximum amount of misfortune you have to endure before they become ineffective? If they last a lifetime, perhaps my time would be better spent doing some research on how to get my own personal curse lifted.

NB: I don't actually feel like I'm cursed at the moment; it's just the way it turned out.
Ever been trapped in a continuous present of unremitting gloom?
No, me neither.