I've always had a thing for the number 18. And in situations that don't add up to 18, I settle for 9. I used to think it was because 18 is the age at which one becomes an adult, legally-speaking. The age of independence. Old enough to vote. Old enough to buy cigarettes and adult magazines (not that I ever did- but at least no one could stop me because of my age). But 18 has long since passed, and I still like the number enough to include it in every lotto ticket I've ever bought. No, I haven't won anything, but that's as easily blamed on the rest of the numbers as on lucky-18.
In college, I mysteriously decided that I would one day marry a lefty. I have no idea where that came from, but I was convinced. I even called a guy I had a crush on, under the pretense of conducting a survey to determine if the honors student population contained an unusual proportion of lefties. He wasn't a lefty. The crush didn't last, but I don't believe that had anything to do with his handedness.
And then I met C. He's learned to do most things with his right hand because his parents insisted that it was wrong to write/eat/throw with the left hand, but he's definitely a lefty. [He finally got his first lefty baseball glove last spring- he was as excited as a little kid!] And guess when his birthday is... the 18th!! Maybe I really knew something when I got stuck on 18 and lefties.
Anyhow, we picked our next donor and there's an 18 in his ID number. He isn't left-handed, but I am encouraged by the 18. The bank had pre-washed specimens available, AND he's an "open" donor. I think we owe our kids the chance to find out where half their genes came from. We switched to a much bigger bank, so there were a lot more choices available. I placed the order today, and I hope our families will understand the lack of Christmas presents this year.
C'mon, lucky 18!!
4 years ago