Here’s how you know it’s Friday the 13th.

1.  Your husband decides to get up at the same time as you do and you end up sharing the bathroom in the morning.   Ugh.  In our house, we both need at least an hour before we can talk or see anyone.

2.  You feel nauseous and achy all day and know there is a possibility that it could last 3 months.   Again ugh.  (But after 3 months all should be better – good!)

3.  The worst part of the day though, is when you get home and in your mail is your March issue of Harper’s Bazaar.  Yay!   Until you see it looks like this, then you know it’s Friday the 13th.