Triskaidekaphobia. I
get it. I totally understand. Sort of.
Okay, I don't get it at all.
Triskaidekaphobia is the morbid fear of the number 13. Technically it's not a clinical phobia like
the fear of dogs (cynophobia) or trains (siderodromophobia) or peanut butter
sticking to the roof of your mouth (arachibutyrophobia).
This fear goes all the way back to the Code of Hammurabi
when some stupid idiot forgot number 13.
He also forgot numbers 66-99, but you don't see anyone breaking a frigging
sweat over that, now, do ya.
Paraskavedecaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th,
as if Friday + 13 = very, very bad. As
if day #13 will cease to exist on the calendar if Friday happens along simply
because we may wish it to be so.
I've hit my head and I've also cut my heel so badly it was
flapping, both done on Friday the 13th. Oh, I
should be soooo scared! But truth be
told, I've done even stupider things on other days, too, like walk into a boat
propeller (thankfully the boat was landlocked and inactive), fly off roller
skates and skid face first across the pavement, and kick a chair so forcefully
that I cracked a bone in my foot.
It doesn't matter what day it is; I'm a freaking klutz.
13 shouldn't feel too hated, though. Today one of my students said she hates the
number 4. Well, good thing she has book
number 14, except it has a 4 in it, and she hates the number 4, so she is all
skeeved out over it. Another student's
father cut off his finger with a circular saw on Friday the 13th,
but not this Friday the 13th
he tells me. Good thing because I am
wondering why he is in school if his father is hemorrhaging out from his
fingerless socket.
One of my own children always wanted the number 13 for his
sports jersey, and when he couldn't get it, he tried for any multiple
thereof. I lived in house #13 for a long
time, longer than I lived anywhere until I lived in #12 ½, which is almost #13,
so that's kind of creepy in and of itself.
Look, floor #13 really isn't a big deal, so get over it
because when you stay on floor #14, you're really on #13 anyway. Inviting 13 to dinner isn't bad luck except
for the loser without a date (usually me) who throws the even numbers off
track.
Friday the 13th is just another day. Maybe we should start paying homage to other quirks,
like celebrating dimanchophobia (fear of Sundays) or chrometophobia (fear of
money -- you can give it all to me) or isopterophobia (fear of termites because
god only knows when those little wood munchers are going to invade).
Imagine 13 termites eating your money on a Sunday after
Friday the 13th? That would
be a bad case of triskaidekaparaskavedecadimanchochrometoisopterophobia. No? Me
either. I still don't get it. Happy Day After Friday the 13th. Looks like we all made it through unscathed.
