Friday the 13th is upon us. What does this mean? Well, really, nothing, although I do have to say that around the dental office, Friday the 13th means that every single patient is going to come in freaked out for his or her cleaning.

Here's a tip: There's no luck involved. Just floss, and you'll be fine.

Since I am working from home today and not at the office, I don't have to deal with the general crazy. Except my crazy, but at least I know what to expect from me most of the time.

Or do I? I have never been weird about doctor appointments, performances, or any other important life things taking place on this supposedly unlucky day (which may or may not be stupid, since I am incredibly unlucky, just in general); however, I have a thing going down today that I have to say I'm a little freaked out about.

A haircut.

Not at a new place or with a new person, just my same lady who always does a great job and all...but...it's Friday the 13th. And what could be more terrifying and unlucky than a really bad haircut?

Like, what if she slips while she's shaving the little hairs off the back of my neck and shaves a big bald stripe on the back of my head and then doesn't tell me and I forget to look until I get home and then I see it and freak out, but I don't want to be a pain, so I don't call her back, but my hair is too short to hide a bald stripe so then in the middle of the night after not sleeping due to my massive anxiety about the ginormous scalp patch on the back of my head, I go a little nuts and just Britney myself except I'm kind of bad at haircuts so maybe I leave a few tufts of hair, but no one tells me because they don't want to hurt my feelings, so I walk around for weeks looking like an escapee from a creepy circus of some sort.

And these are the things I worry about.

The inner workings of my mind.

Geez.