Day 13: Actually, we prefer the term “diskaidekaphilia”

I don't know if it's my being Irish, or if I am merely garden-variety insane, but I am superstitious about quite a few things. Where no predefined superstition exists, I have been known to invent personal rituals and convince myself that any deviation from them will result in abject failure. A perennial favourite of mine is a near clinical dose of triskaidekaphobia (thanks Wikipedia!). When I was a teenager, I loved playing Micro Machines on the Mega Drive. If I made it to the 13th level, I would never dream of stopping until I had at least passed level 15; the fact that 14 abuts 13 means it too is sullied with thirteen-ness. I have trained myself to be a little saner in recent years though I still avoid slot number 13 on the centrifuge where possible. I have a particular aversion to Friday the 13th. When the calendar inflicts one upon me, I prefer to play it safe by staying home. This year however, I was a big brave girl, and not only did I venture out of the house, I was the designated driver for some friends. Nothing bad happened, and in fact, we had a blast at our friend’s bachelorette party that night. However, I refused to date the cell culture media that I made that day properly.


One step at a time…