I didn't even make this association until today. Weird.

See, today is Friday the 13th, which is a spooky scary occurrence in the US - not sure if it is anywhere else in the world. So for today, let's pretend we're in the States, okay? Good.

Personally I don't really believe in all of that crap, though. But then again my prom wasn't attacked by some machete-wielding maniac, and I never went to a summer camp that was abandoned after a young boy drowned in a lake nearby, nor do I ever say "I'll be right back" or "Who's there?" after nightfall.

However, I do believe in odd coincidences.

Two days ago I brought up a post from a year and a half ago, about why I'm not counting down the days until I leave Dubai (see A month ... and not counting).

The gist of the original post is that back two decades ago I was counting down the days leading up to my 12th birthday, while at the same time my paternal grandfather was in the hospital dying from cancer. I was wishing time away, and I can only assume that he was wishing for more time. Thus I don't count shit down anymore.

So I mention this two days ago, and then here today's Friday the 13th.

And my Papa was born on Friday, June 13, 1913.

I didn't even put that together until today.

Weird.