The Universe is trying to kill me. Yesterday I got caught in a snow-slash-sleet storm while out for a short ride and today I nearly got drilled twice in two blocks by distracted drivers doing California rolls on stop signs.

Further along an elderly woman nearly took off my left hand with her passenger-side mirror while trying to beat me to a stop sign as I was signaling a left turn. And finally an inattentive laborer carrying a long aluminum ladder almost batted me out of a bike lane and into a passing car.

Well, you don’t have to warn me more than three or four times. I sped straight for home and stayed there. But I don’t feel much safe indoors. You will recall what happened to Arthur Pewtey at the marriage guidance counselor’s office.

Fish-and-spinach tacos tonight. This proved a poor strategic decision, dinner-wise, as Herself was in Santa Fe, yukking it up with a few girlfriends, which meant I had to cook and clean up.

The recipe, from Martha Rose Shulman, was OK but not stellar — especially considering that the post-dinner wash-up involved a couple of saucepans, a steamer and basket, a food processor and skillet, plus the usual cutlery, cutting board and spatulas.

Something was missing, and I’m damned if I know what it was. Avocados? Citrus? A scullery maid? I used vegetable stock instead of chicken, and warmed the corn tortillas in a skillet instead of steaming them — hey, I was hungry — and I skipped the grated queso for the same reason. Time’s a-wastin’, Fat Boy needs his vittles.

Whatever. I’m surprised I had any appetite at all after watching Alexander Vinokourov win Liège-Bastogne-Liège, with Alejandro Valverde third. Runner-up Alexander Kolobnev was the mystery meat in this unsavory sandwich, which got a big thumbs-down from the Belgian crowd; homeboy Philippe Gilbert finished just off the podium in fourth after a desperate, last-ditch attempt to win the thing.

I don’t speak any of Vino’s languages, and he’s not so good with mine, so I have to rely on better educated folks to tell me what he’s saying about his being shit-canned from the 2007 Tour, getting two years off on a blood-doping rap and coming back bigger and better than ever. Some say he’s unrepentant; others read a subtle confession in his recent statements.

Me, I keep getting a whiff of asshole off this guy. A suspicion that he might do anything, to anybody, to win races, collect trophies and cash checks.

Maybe that’s what it takes. If so, he has plenty of company, in cycling and elsewhere. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Call me a Belgian if you want, but I ain’t cheering this one.