I'm going on my honeymoon this weekend. And getting my Christmas gift. And celebrating Valentine's. It's quite a convenient trip.
My wife and I didn't go on a honeymoon when we got married, so at Christmas she had the idea that our gift to each other would be a honeymoon trip to the mountains. While we are at it, she said, it can be our Valentine's Day gift, too.
I knew there was a reason why I married her. I'm not pointing any fingers at any other wives, but I'd hazard a guess that most would not be willing to wrap two romantic events and one holiday into just one trip.
However, it's also not lost on me that today is a day that, well, I don't like to even talk about. Never have. I wrote a whole column about today once and never mentioned the unlucky number itself.
But suffice it to say, I'm superstitious about it. Or I always have been. For my New Year's resolution, I told myself I was going to quit believing in superstitions. I promptly celebrated by making sure the first person to cross our threshold at home in the new year was a tall man bearing a gift (me) and then dutifully ate collards and black-eyed peas for luck and prosperity.
But since then, I've done OK with my resolution. I've resisted the urge to ward off the evil eye when a black cat crossed my path, and I gave someone a knife without making then "pay" for it with a penny or nickel to keep from being cut out of my life. So far, all is well.
But today - and its infamous bad number - is my true test. I know its just a number, but I've always seen it as bad. So starting a trip on it - and one that's supposed to be relaxing and enjoyable to boot - is against what has always been my better judgment. In fact, I'm having more than a hard time just writing about this, out of fear that I'm jinxing myself.
But it's something I have to do, to get over the old myth and free myself from the power of the day and the number. The day is Friday, and that number, of course, is ... uh, well, I'll get to it in a minute.
To lighten my mood a little I've been telling my wife that we were going to go see the opening of the horror movie remake that's coming out today. She loves playing jokes on me, specifically scaring me. What better way to get her back for all the times she's jumped out of the closet in the dark in our bathroom than to go see a movie about a maniac with a machete that takes place on the hockey-masked killer's birthday, which is, uh, today.
You know, right before we go to our lonely, secluded cabin in the woods.
So I told her we were going to go see the movie before heading north and that she'd better be ready for Nate's scary revenge because I was packing a hockey mask and a fake machete.
She told me she was not going to any scary movie and she was bringing a real gun. I'm packing a prop, she's packing heat.
So maybe my revenge will have to wait.
And come to think of it, I think this whole quit-believing-in-superstition idea may not be such a good one after all.
I mean those guys never die at the ends of those movies. What if he goes to our cabin to wait it out for the sequel? He'll probably bring his hockey mask, too, so I probably don't need to take one.
I think I'll take a rabbit's foot instead.
E-mail Nate McCullough at firstname.lastname@example.org. His column appears on Fridays.