This morning is sunny and bright. The birds are chirping, the cats are lounging, and the dogs are doing whatever skeevy thing it is that dogs do. Not a day for Master Vorhees to go slashing about -- no sir!
Traditionally, Fridays that fall on the 13th of any month have been rather pleasant for me. Things go the way I want, and nothing bad ever happens. One of my fondest Friday the 13th memories takes me back to the tender age of 14, when I had a wonderful day at school which included finding a dollar while randomly flipping through a library book.
I intend to use this day to write and garden, like any sane person would. The sunflowers could stand some more fertilizer. And maybe I can get that arbor up by the barn.
And if Fridays that fall on the 13th are traditionally unlucky, ill-starred, or otherwise bad days for you, my condolences. In such a case, perhaps wallowing in how much worse off some folks other than you are right now would do you a world of good.
Tra-la-la-la-la...
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