You all know how superstitious I am. If you’re new, welcome, hi, and by the way, I’m superstitious. I don’t think demons will steal my soul if I yawn without covering my mouth. Nor do I believe that walking under a ladder will somehow cause unfortunate things to happen either to me or to people I care about. But I knock on wood so often that I have a wooden keychain, just so it’s handy.
It’s all about self-fulfilling prophecy. You know, the neurosis that causes us to sabotage our own lives. I make enough mistakes. I don’t want my subconscious to have an excuse to make more. So I’m superstitious as a psychological precaution. That said, I never noticed that today is Friday the 13th.
You’d think I would. I wrote some checks this morning, so I knew it was the 13th. The Friday part was obvious. But I didn’t put the two together; I had to hear it on the radio. The funny thing is it didn’t faze me. Nothing bad happened. It was an otherwise ordinary Friday.
A less disciplined mind might rethink the whole superstitious thing, but I’m tougher than that. Knock on wood.
No comments:
Post a Comment