Do you know what today is?
Friday, yes. The Friday of god-thanking fame and/or notoriety. The Friday of casual office attire and pizza. And freakiness, if you decide to switch personalities with your mom a la Jodie Foster circa 1976.
But it’s also the 13th. A Friday fraught in fear. And rightfully so, for those of you who will no doubt attribute every “bad” thing that happens today (and oh, bad things are bound to happen) to this alignment. Better to blame the day than yourself, after all. Right? Right.
This morning, on my way home from the gym, the moment I reached the turnstiles on the subway platform, the train’s doors closed, and I resigned myself to having to wait for the next one. I was just about to interpret this as Friday The Thirteenth’s way of saying hello, when the train conductor said, “Come in, Miss,” and opened the doors for me. I didn’t know which part of that equation delighted me more: the conductor opening the doors or the conductor calling me “Miss” instead of the dreaded “Ma’am”. I decided I didn’t have to choose, and delighted in both.
Some of you may not be convinced that my good fortune is an indication that the whole notion of Friday The Thirteenth is a buncha bunkum. Therefore, I offer you this: This morning, on my way to the gym, my cab driver, Leonardo (and yes, he is “mine” — he picks me up in front of my building every weekday!), told me that in his country, the Dominican Republic, Tuesday the 13th is bad luck. So for those of you who are prone to suspicion, I suggest you take leave of this country after lunch this afternoon and flee to that one. You will be safe there until June.
Speaking of lunch, I will probably have photos of mine for you today. It’s been a long time comin’, I know. So, you see, you’re in luck! (insert four-leaf clover emoticon sticking its tongue out, with a black cat snarling behind it and a freshly sharpened machete hovering above the tongue)