Monday, February 4

This morning I was at the McDonald’s drive-thru when a ladybug flew through my car window and lighted upon the steering wheel. “A ladybug! In February?” I gently laid my finger beside the red and black speck hoping the little bugger would crawl onboard. The ladybug flew off the steering wheel and landed smack dab in the middle of my lower lip. I felt a teensy pinch and suspect the tiny creature kissed me. A moment later the lady bug flew off. Wahoo!! It’s my lucky day! Ladybugs bring good luck; everyone knows that. Right?

I won’t fly on Friday the thirteenth, or walk under ladders. My superstitions began in childhood while avoiding sidewalk cracks, and blaming my teen-aged angst on broken mirrors. Now, as a well educated adult, I no longer believe in unlucky side walk cracks or negative experiences perpetuated by broken mirrors. But I do believe in lucky Ladybugs.

Illogical as it is, I can’t seem to shake this doormat behavior of allowing numbers, objects and the occasional insect, control over my life. Intellectually I realize this is ill suited to the recovering doormat lifestyle. It’s tough behavior to let go of; but I am trying. (Wish me luck.)

Standing up and knocking on wood. Rose