For example, one of my closest friends, whom I love dearly, lives in the building across the courtyard of my apartment. This is the building you can see in the photograph at the top of this blog entry—just behind my SODA sign—and it shows the view of my urban terrace garden when the camera is pointed north. The picture was taken on April 19th 2011, when my garden was shyly coming back to life for another season, after having been safely winterized from December until the third week of April.
In any event, my friend lives on the Fourteenth Floor of this building; however, if truth be told, he lives on the Thirteenth Floor, because, when the owners of his building were numbering the floors and assigning numbers to the apartment units, they did not want to use the number thirteen. Hence the building’s elevator goes from twelve to fourteen, but, of course, there really is a Thirteenth Floor, disguised with the name Fourteenth Floor—a fact that my friend pointed out “is not too wise” should there be a fire, “particularly if a fire occurred and firemen were counting flights of steps as they ascended them to save a life”.
But what if one is born on Friday the 13th? Does this mean he/she is destined to a life of bad luck? I have heard an array of answers to that question, and my favorite answer is, “aren’t you lucky just to be born?”
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