The Curse of the Black Cat!

An online conversation yesterday posed the question "Are you superstitious?" Not really. I have a few idiosyncrasies from my past related to sports, but nothing shocking. I was a huge horror movie fan growing up and, except for being almost 34 and deathly afraid of the dark, I have come away from an obsession with scary stuff relatively unscathed. It did become apparent in the discussion that I'm OCD, but thankfully, I'm not the only one. Of the replies, almost all of us has an issue of some kind with silverware. That in and of itself is pretty weird, I think. A law of averages would point toward eating utensils being the foundation for many a counseling session.

Anyway, the reason I feel the need to write about this is because Friday the 13th reared it's ugly head yesterday, and not in a "Jason" kind of way. Here's the story. Try to follow along:

Shawn came home from a trip to Chicago yesterday (he spotted Jim Belushi in a restaurant, btw) and upon walking in the door from the airport, he dropped his bags and said he was starving and wanted to go to dinner. He wanted to drive and I didn't plan to drink, so I left my purse, keys, etc. on the table and we left. At the end of our street, a cat ran out in front of our car. I said "Hey look, a black cat & it's Friday the 13th! Freaky, huh?" We laughed and continued to dinner.

After dinner, we started home and he suddenly got quiet and said "Did you bring your keys?". NO, why? "Because I always take my house key off my key chain when I travel". Crap! "Do you have your cell phone?" NO. YOU? "No. They're on the kitchen table." Fudge! IT WAS THE BLACK CAT! WE WERE CURSED!

Also, our hidden key in the yard was mysteriously missing. That's pretty freaky, too. Basically, we had to go to the grocery store up the street and borrow a total stranger's cell phone (we live in a small community with no pay phones) and call my in laws who are the only ones with a spare key....At least they thought it might be our spare key. OMG! Without any other option without a $200 price tag, we drove a half hour to meet them halfway to get the key. We had a prayer circle around our Chai tea lattes and carrot cake with the Starbucks girls in hopes that it was the right one. There was a strong chance that it was actually a key to our old apartment or belonging to another sibling...or nobody's key...just another trick played by the black cat.

As our truck inched back home, we were facing the likelihood that we would have to break a window. No locksmith would be coming to our area that late on a Friday. If I stand on Shawn's shoulders, can I try to open the bathroom window on the 2nd floor without falling and breaking my neck? He was completely ready to take that chance to save the money of a replacement window, although he decided that this would be a great time to comment that I probably wouldn't fit through the window... Umm. So, I've seen him for just a few days in the past 2 weeks. This was probably not going to win him "quality time" with me later, ya think?

Long story, but I now have a new superstition. Black cats...and I'm also pretty sure that the boogie man has our hide-a-key now.