Friday is my lucky day. [I was, after all, born on one.] But because my personal number is “4,” certain Fridays - those with dates that add up to that number; i.e., the 4th, 13th, 22nd and 31st - are luckier for me than others. This has rung true for over five decades with nary a hitch, and I’ve always looked forward to these particular days with great joy and anticipation - for the fact of the matter is that something wondrous and exciting has never failed to come my way with their dawning.
Until last Friday. Friday the thirteenth. The day that Someone’s fingers did the walking and blindly dialed a wrong number.
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