Friday the 13th

If it had been a nicer day out, I would have gone out to so those things I planned on. I like to tempt fate sometimes on these days— like I was going to get a haircut. The reason I do this type thing is:

One Friday the 13th I had a really good day. I mean, really good. Only one thing went wrong, and even that was just a little thing. Anyway, I went around all day, as even more things fell perfectly into place, I called it my happy day. So if that one was so good, then that would folloew that they all had the potential of being equally as good. Well, they really haven’t been as good, but they were also not bad, either.

I’ve never bought into the bad luck Friday the 13th thing— or even the bad 13 thing. I think that bad luck doesn’t really care what day it is. that leaves out the day everybody really hates— Monday.

If a building were to have a 13th floor— I’m sure some do— I would want to live on it. Too many easily spooked people wouldn’t liver on it, so I wouldn’t have any noisy neighbors bugging me. The ones who have been bugging me for the past couple of years finally went away. I swear, those people never went to sleep.


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