Good Luck Never Smelled So… Bad

I wouldn’t consider myself an extremely superstitious person, but I’d be lying if I didn’t believe in bits and pieces. I don’t know whether walking under a ladder is really bad luck or not, but for some reason I just find myself avoiding it whenever the situation arises. I mean, if Looney Tunes has taught me anything, it’s to avoid ladders. And anvils.

Another famous superstition in regards to luck refers to the misfortune that will befall anyone who breaks a mirror. Not your short term misfortune either. We’re talking 7 years of nothing but bad luck. Just thinking about how expensive mirrors were during the time this superstition was likely conceived can help shed a bit of light on its origins. If I were a mother back then, I’d definitely say things like that to my kids if they were horseplaying around with expensive fragile items.

“Hey, get away from that mirror! If you break that you’ll have 7 years of bad luck, you know!”

Then in my head, “ha, that’ll teach those little whippersnappers to play ball in the house.”

They say that a broken clock or a cracked crystal on a pocket watch or wristwatch is also believed to be a bad sign. Not surprisingly, these are also very expensive items that are as old as the superstitions themselves. The story even goes on to say that a broken watch symbolizes failure to progress in one’s work. Which would make sense… cause you’d be late to work and all sorts of bad luck would no doubt ensue. So again, the origins of such superstitions somewhat make sense. Some superstitions about luck aren’t as easily explained though.

Tell me if you’ve ever heard this one. Originating somewhere in the UK, it’s believed that by saying “rabbit” right after you wake up on the first day of the month, you’ll bring yourself good luck for the next 30 or so days. No matter how you say it; rabbit-rabbit, rabbits, white rabbit, run rabbit run, etc., it’s supposed to work.

What about knocking on wood? Another dumb superstition that I find myself doing from time to time. Okay fine, often. Do I necessarily believe in it? I have no idea, but at risk of jinxing myself, it’s easier to just tap on the table just in case. There are two big theories behind this one. One is that pagans believe spirits live in trees, so it was kind of used as a nod to them, for lack of better words. The other theory comes from Britain and mentions a popular children’s game called “Tiggy-touch-wood,” where the only way you were “safe” from the other children chasing you was when you were touching a piece of wood. Could the whole concept of knocking on wood for luck have really stemmed from a kid’s game? I wouldn’t be surprised. Though I favor the tree spirits myself.

From blowing out birthday candles, lucky horseshoes, throwing salt over your shoulder, breaking wishbones, and even picking up pennies (not tails up, that’s bad luck!), superstitions on luck abound. It’s hard to keep up with them all, and sometimes I just think people are having me on with some of these tales.

A bird pooping on you is supposed to be good luck. I know, I know, but it’s true. Or so I’m told. I don’t believe it. And I’ll tell you why. A bird pooped on my hand the other day. There I was, minding my own business, walking around the neighborhood, trying to get some air and exercise, and a bird decided to just poop on my hand. Cause, you know. That’s what I’m here for. Oh look, my friend said, a bird pooped on your hand! You’ll have good luck! No, Sharon, I have germs. Germs are what I have. You’re so lucky! No, I’m not lucky, I’m disgusted. And for your information, there was no luck to be had here. No luck at all. I mean, I guess it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been my head. Or my face as I turned it upward to see what the hell that freakin’ bird was doing. Maybe the bird just had bad aim. Maybe that’s where the good luck came in.

So, yeah. Superstitions stink.

My Introvert Life – Log Entry 56502

Stardate 20220505 – Time: Thursday Night Hell

I’m not much of a people person and those close to me know this. Even those not so close to me know this. So at the last minute when two of my friends that I made plans with for a random Thursday night said they were bringing some other friends that I never met along, that little anxiety-riddled part of my brain quickly looked for a way out of the ordeal. I seriously considered buying a plane ticket to anywhere that was not here and simply starting a new life under an assumed name.

But alas, moments later I found myself in the back of an SUV that I’d never ridden in before on my way to dinner at a place I had never eaten at before. Oh yes, I said to myself. This is hell. I’m in hell.

Everyone was going on and on and having a great time, and there I was, just trying to survive the outing long enough to get back home to the safety of my tea, favorite book, cheesy TV, and my cats, and wondering what the hell was I thinking to ever go out in the first place. I mean, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But then, doesn’t it always? And it’s not. It’s never a good idea.

Oh, here comes the waiter. “Can I get you ladies anything else this evening?”

Me screaming in my head: “Just the check, thanks.”

My mouth: “oh, that lava cake looks good.”

Me in my head: “Damn my weakness for sweets. Ah the hell with it. What’s 10 more minutes in hell anyway, right? At least there’s cake.”

The Life of Riley

I had to run errands today and while I was driving through the parking lot of my local shopping center, I saw a family, with kids in tow, crossing the aisle to go into the local buffet place. Now why they were going to (presumably) eat at a buffet in this day and age is beyond me, but that’s not the point of the story. The dad in this little family unit was carrying an obviously sleeping child draped across his chest, head resting on the man’s shoulder…not really an infant, but too young to be considered a toddler. It was an adorable scene with the standard cute as a button child all bundled up in a little baby parka (with a hood no less!) and little baby boots.

And it got me thinking. That’s the life, isn’t it? I mean, to be a child again wouldn’t be so horrible. At least, in this scenario. You have minimal worries, oh sure, sometimes life can get frustrating, especially when you can’t open the milk by yourself, but generally speaking, no worries. You just play and eat and throw temper tantrums and best of all, you can just sleep whenever you want to and get carried around everywhere for free, like to the aforementioned buffet. Then when you wake up from your slumber, you may not know how you got to wherever it is you find yourself, but there’s food!