It's Friday, the 13th, and a black cat crossed my path tonight while riding in the car w/ Maddy. Well, it didn't exactly cross my path, it rather darted out of the way while I gingerly arced my car in the opposite direction. It was eating something in the middle of the road that looked like dry cereal from a Styrofoam bowl. There's bound to be some culture somewhere that thinks this is a sign of good luck so right now I'm claiming that cultural heritage.
I'm one of those people who says she's not superstitious while secretly being superstitious. Not the "don't open an umbrella inside" or "never walk under a ladder" kind of superstitious, but the kind who believes that whatever you do on New Year's Eve will be a sign of the year to come. Or that whatever you dream about on your first night in a new home will come true. These superstitions never hold true, yet I hold onto them. They're probably something Mom passed down to me, and I definitely want to hold onto her.
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