According to my grandmother, not finishing my meal would bring rain, but it never did. Until last week. Last week we had potato soup, I hate soup and I hate potatoes and I hate that two wrongs didn’t make anything right here, so I threw it away. As usual, it didn’t rain, but perhaps the consequences changed as I woke up the next day with my fingers turned into spaghetti. I had to take the week off since I couldn't work with spaghetti fingers. Didn't go out for groceries either, so now I'm hungry