Black cats, spilled salt, shattered mirrors, and rickety ladders.
I've seen and done all, jinxing myself with supposed superstition. By this point in life, I've tallied enough "7-years of bad luck" that I couldn't possibly outlive it all, so I've contented myself with the idea of a luckless life, whether luck exists or not (*cough* not).
Friday the 13th instills worry upon the superstitious population. Wikipedia--my never-ending source of shaky knowledge--defines fear of Friday the 13th as friggatriskaidekaphobia (don't fret, it took me three tries out-loud to pronounce it, too).
I do not suffer from friggatriskaidekaphobia (or any word that could pass as a scaly syllable-snake); in fact, I tend to spit on the calendar date and wait for it to spit back. So far, the spit of Friday the 13th has been made of sugar and surprises. On August 13, 2010, I attended a lovely wedding, I successfully packed the contents of an entire house into a shoe-box sized trailer, and I started what turned out to be a delightful drive to Missouri.
Today (May 13, 2011), I experienced a "2011 highlight day". It's joined my list of top 10 favorite days (roughly around fifth place) and filled every ounce of my water-and-blood-filled body with joy and urges to dance. My self-control and poise are both panicking at my antics. Sunny skies (after two days of snow), a writer's conference that's writing its way into my heart of cherished memories, and half-priced Starbucks frappuccino's. That's only the beginning. If this is bad luck, I'm it's biggest fan.
I've seen and done all, jinxing myself with supposed superstition. By this point in life, I've tallied enough "7-years of bad luck" that I couldn't possibly outlive it all, so I've contented myself with the idea of a luckless life, whether luck exists or not (*cough* not).
Friday the 13th instills worry upon the superstitious population. Wikipedia--my never-ending source of shaky knowledge--defines fear of Friday the 13th as friggatriskaidekaphobia (don't fret, it took me three tries out-loud to pronounce it, too).
I do not suffer from friggatriskaidekaphobia (or any word that could pass as a scaly syllable-snake); in fact, I tend to spit on the calendar date and wait for it to spit back. So far, the spit of Friday the 13th has been made of sugar and surprises. On August 13, 2010, I attended a lovely wedding, I successfully packed the contents of an entire house into a shoe-box sized trailer, and I started what turned out to be a delightful drive to Missouri.
Today (May 13, 2011), I experienced a "2011 highlight day". It's joined my list of top 10 favorite days (roughly around fifth place) and filled every ounce of my water-and-blood-filled body with joy and urges to dance. My self-control and poise are both panicking at my antics. Sunny skies (after two days of snow), a writer's conference that's writing its way into my heart of cherished memories, and half-priced Starbucks frappuccino's. That's only the beginning. If this is bad luck, I'm it's biggest fan.
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