Cosmic justice. That's the only way I can describe my turn of misfortune. What else could it be that prevents me from going to the Sloan show that I've been anticipating for weeks because of a raging fever? Shelling out $50 for two tickets doesn't really bother me, but to become gravely ill a mere two hours before showtime strikes me as some form of cosmic justice meted out by the universe. Was it something I said? Should I have given that homeless man some change instead of walking by, should I have complimented a co-worker for their diligence and hard work? Should I have picked up Amanda's litter last week instead of leaving it to blow onto the street? Perhaps I shall never know, but if Sloan announces a dissolution shortly after their tour, I'm going to be unimpressed. Justice served? Not bloody likely.