Tuesday the Thirteenth

I have always thought of myself as a relatively intelligent person. I graduated from college in two years and my IQ was within two points of being classified as genius. I have a near photographic memory (although I sometimes forget to load the film) and I have a knack of analyzing things to death. Even with all of that, I suffer from at least one annoying personality trait. (Notice I said at least one. Trina is keeping a list and the last time I saw it, it was a four volume set.) I detest the number thirteen. I know that there is no such thing as luck and destiny is something that should remain the domain of my new age psychic friends but I cannot help but dislike thirteen. Nothing good has ever come from this number in my life. It was March 13 when our daughter died, I broke bones and was injured missing most of the baseball season when I was 13. I even got my butt kicked in a fight once by a guy wearing size 13 shoes. Thirteen and I have come to an agreement over the years. I ignore it and it will ignore me. So far, this seems to have worked. If I play things real low key and just try to survive today, weird things won’t happen to me. I have tried everything over the years, lucky rabbit’s foot, four leaf clover, lucky charms (I especially like the new blue diamonds marshmallows) but nothing seems to counteract the effects of thirteen. At first I thought there would only be a problem when the thirteenth landed on a Friday but the only difference that makes is that I at least have a weekend to overcome its effects. When it lands on a Tuesday, I still have three more work days to deal with the aftermath. Now where did I put my lucky socks?

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