A power outage on Friday the 13th is ominous. Especially when you live in the woods. Especially when it hits an hour before the show time of that new Jason movie you were going to see, but capriciously chose against this morning.
So I went, disregarding that the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” was the first song on the radio, had a good time with two-hundred teenagers, and returned home to find the lights on and no one lurking behind the doors I’d left ajar. It reminded me that Friday the 13th wasn’t a holiday of massacre, but one of bad luck. Or maybe it wasn’t one of bad luck either, but like every day, merely a collection of hours with whatever meaning I let it have, which was an amiable lesson, as Valentine’s Day was tomorrow.
I LOVE this one! you are so creative!!!! :o) PS- these word verifications they ask you to write are really weird. this one is "plagg"
ReplyDeleteThose name confirmations are weird.
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm really glad you liked this one! I wasn't sure if anyone would care for it. It is a true story, though.