Don't say it, don't even think it

On the way home from Lwow, after taking two Ukrainian mini-buses, passing through two border posts, a Polish mini-bus, and then a train, for a combined total of nearly 10 hours of travel without food or water since we hadn't stocked up before leaving and were then in a constant rush to make the next connection, Patrick and I were 15 minutes from Katowice and our last leg to Sosnowiec by yet a fourth bus, when he turned to me and said, "Well, we finally made it."
I stared at him in disbelief. "Why?" I asked. "Why would you say such a thing?" Desperately, I looked around the metal and glass train compartment for some wood to knock on, but had to resort to my head. "We're 15 minutes from Katowice, which isn't even home. On a Polish train. Why would you tempt fate like that?"
Turns out that Patrick doesn't share my superstitions and he just laughed the whole thing off. He felt justified, I'm sure, when we arrived without incident, although he's too nice of a guy to rub it in. Nevertheless, a few days ago I wrote about the beautiful spring weather we had had, and I've been putting an optimistic spin on the successive days of cold, drizzly rain we've had since then: "But it's a spring rain!" Basically irritating the heck out of my friends, coworkers, and students, I'm sure. And lo, I woke this morning to find an inch of wet, miserable, slushy snow cooling my spring fever.
Now, I know that many people will argue that there can't possibly be a causal connection between my blog and conversations, and the weather. That thinking that implies delusion, solipsism, and egotism. And these people can rightfully point out the universe probably has much more important things to concern itself with than mocking me. That part of me that is logical and reasonable agrees with these people. But another, baser part of me knows this snow is personal; though likely it fell for a multitude of reasons, most of them meteorological in nature, at least in small part it's a big, wet, white laugh in my face.