Mia: [sweeping the floor quickly] Jaron, can you move your feet? I’m trying to finish this before it gets dark.
Jaron: Why? Planning to enter a sweeping competition?
Mia: [glares] Because you’re not supposed to sweep at night! My lola always said it drives good luck out of the house.
Jaron: Mia, your lola also said eating watermelon seeds would make a tree grow in your stomach.
Mia: Hey, that one was obviously a joke. But this—this is real. Every time we swept at night when I was a kid, something bad happened. My mom lost her wallet once.
Jaron: Or maybe she misplaced it… like she misplaces her glasses on her head?
Mia: [points broom at him] Coincidence or not, I don’t want to take chances.
Jaron: Okay, but think about it. Sweeping doesn’t change probability. There’s no mechanism—no airflow, no physics—to make luck evaporate out the door. It’s just cleaning.
Mia: But in Filipino traditions, nighttime is when spirits roam. You don’t disturb the energy. Sweeping is like shooing away good vibes.
Jaron: Spirits? Really? The only spirit here is the dust bunny community you’re trying to evict.
Mia: Laugh all you want! You didn’t grow up hearing your aunties panic over a midnight walis tingting. One time, my cousin swept at 9 p.m., and the next day she failed her quiz.
Jaron: Maybe because she spent all night sweeping and didn’t study?
Mia: [rolls eyes] You’re impossible.
Jaron: Look, I get it. These beliefs come from our elders. Back then, sweeping at night meant losing things—literally. Houses didn’t have good lighting. You could accidentally sweep away coins, needles, or small important things. So they turned it into a warning.
Mia: …Huh. I never thought of that.
Jaron: See? It wasn’t about luck—it was an early form of “don’t make a mess in the dark.” Practical advice wrapped in superstition.
Mia: Still, I feel weird about it. Like breaking some ancestral rule.
Jaron: We can honor our culture without being scared of it. How about this: you sweep whenever you want, and if bad luck hits, I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll be your official pangontra.
Mia: You? My lucky charm? You can’t even keep your plants alive.
Jaron: Hey! Those plants died of natural causes.
Mia: You drowned a cactus, Jaron.
Jaron: That is beside the point. The point is: sweeping at night is totally fine. If anything, it’s productive. Imagine the ghosts seeing you clean—maybe they’ll be impressed.
Mia: [laughs] Okay fine, maybe the ghosts want a tidy place too.
Jaron: Exactly. Cleanliness is next to… ghostliness?
Mia: Stop. Just stop.
Jaron: So… are you going to finish sweeping tonight?
Mia: [hesitates] Ugh. Fine. But if anything unlucky happens tomorrow, I’m blaming you.
Jaron: Deal. And if nothing happens, you owe me turon.
Mia: Only if you promise never to drown another cactus.
Jaron: No promises.
Mia: [laughs and continues sweeping] At least the ghosts will have a clean floor to float on.
Science Vs Superstition 
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