Home > Thinking, Writing > Superstition


I’m not a very superstitious person. My mother used to absolutely freak out when I put a hat on the bed. This was before the internet, so I couldn’t just look it up. I spent my childhood and adolescence forgetting about that quirk (because, seriously, what the hell) and hearing horrified shrieks a few hours later.

I have since looked it up. Thank you, internet! There are a variety of myths from Italy and Portugal that say hats on the bed cause family arguments or family deaths. I have no idea where my Mexican/Scots/English mother got it.

The far more likely explanation for the hat thing is that back when head lice was common, you wouldn’t want some ooky and possibly lice-infested stranger getting his cooties on your bed. Getting cooties out of a mattress goes something like “First, burn the mattress to ashes.”

Anyway, when you grow up in a house where you cannot open an umbrella to dry inside, put hats on the bed, kill spiders even if they give you nightmares, and/or so much more, you either grow up as a total fruitcake, or you become almost aggressively rational.

If “aggressive” is an option, I’ll always take it.

But no matter how aggressively rational I am, I can’t quite shake my early inculcation. I’m afraid to post good news if the final decision hasn’t been made, lest angry and vengeful spirits decide I’m getting too big for my britches and cast evil eyes on me. But I’m feeling very encouraged this morning.

Categories: Thinking, Writing Tags:
  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: