I love Friday the 13th. I always have. I was born very late at night on Thursday the 12th of January, just about 15 minutes shy of Friday the 13th. My family was so worried that I would come on Friday the 13th, part of me wishes that I had.
Tradition holds the number 13 as an unlucky number. Friday the 13th is supposed to be a very unlucky day. I however, LOVE it. It goes back to the first Friday the 13th that I can remember, in high school. I recognized that it was Friday the 13th, and wondered if I would have a bad day, so I went into the day with the intention of observing what kind of day it would be. It turned out to be an amazing day, where everything went my way. Absolutely everything. I was amazed at what a great day I had. Since that time, I continued to observe what kind of day I would have on Friday the 13th, and the result has always been the same: on Fridays the 13th, I have amazing luck. It is as if I have drunk that potion from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (Felix Felicis or something like that). Everything just always goes my way. Maybe there is something to that, and maybe not. Maybe it is just my attitude about the day that make things so grand. When asked about it, I often joke that “there must be balance in the universe” so when there is so much bad luck on that day, all of the good luck comes to me.
I love that my Mom knows this about me too. She alone is the person who wishes me a happy Friday the 13th whenever it happens. It really is like a holiday for me, and I always try to make it a great day.
Today is no different. I am headed home after a long, but fantastic week in Detroit, Michigan, to see my family and get some rest. I will stop at the airport before leaving it to apply for my TSA pre check, to expedite the trip through security in the future, then the Lamb family is coming into town tonight, so it should be a good time.
Happy Friday the 13th everyone!
So far I got window seats on both flights home, the tradition continues...
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