Today a conversation started about the fear of window envelopes. Seriously, someone mentioned they were irrationally afraid of these things coming for them in the mail. I share this fear because once upon a time in my more hapless days I would receive them regularly and they were usually asking where the hell their money was or explaining the many ways my credit sucked. Nowadays, I get window envelops and they are usually trying to look important and scary when really they want me to borrow more money or save on insurance. The only thing I owe is a mortgage but my heart still leaps into my throat and I open these envelops quickly with shaky hands. I’m wondering if I can sue those stupid asshats at BOA for causing this phobic reaction. I’m figuring it’s good for a few million of their bailout monies. This whole Fear The Envelope thing made me realize I’m sort of an anxious type because I’m afraid of a lot of ridiculous things.
I’m afraid I’ll be driving on an overpass (one of the crazy high one’s in Dallas Fort Worth or San Antonio) and the road will inexplicably end, hurling me and mine into oblivion where we will be smashed on the road surface below: with only dental records to prove we existed.
I’m terrified to pass a semi truck on the right because the minute I am in the trucker’s blind spot she will fall asleep and swerve into me throwing us into the ditch where we will lay for hours until help arrives.
I’m terrified when a semi passes me on the left. See the above scenario.
It freaks me out to come home and the dog isn’t yapping at me from behind the garage door. Because if he isn’t barking-- like someone is pulling his tail--he is certainly dead.
I’m terrified of snakes. I don’t just mean afraid of seeing snakes in the yard or the field. I’m afraid of pictures of snakes. When the kids were too small to go into the reptile house by themselves I wouldn’t take them in because I would have a panic attack the second I walked into the door. I can’t imagine what is going to happen when I inevitably pick up a small grass snake rather than a handful of leaves of mulch in the garden. Two weeks after we moved into the house, a bull snake -- 25 feet long and 4 feet around--was spotted crawling towards our house. We had trash trees, and all sorts of dead stuff back in those days. I called animal control much to the uproarious laughter of my friends and coworkers who told me I should have just tossed it over the back fence. Um…that would mean I actually went into the backyard with the snake. I would attempt to disarm a terrorist before I actually touched a snake. When I was a kid, my terror is what kept up and out of the water when I would water ski because I was sure my father would no doubt put me down in a churning bed of angry water moccasins. I finally stopped water skiing because I didn’t enjoy it and could avoid the whole snake thing. (Please DO NOT leave comments about your favorite snake story and yeah, I probably exaggerated the size of the bull snake)
I’m unreasonably afraid of the dark when I’m alone. I have to have a light on when I walk through a room unless someone is with me. I can’t go through a darkened room. I’m also afraid to sleep in a dark room with the door closed if I’m alone.
I can’t leave my feet out from under the covers. When I was a child I was convinced there were monsters living under the bed and they would snap my toes off in the night. It unnerves me to have my feet uncovered.
Thunder and lightening. It’s loud and bright and electricity that could kill us all.
Encountering a UFO late at night on the highway between here and Texas. No doubt all those unsupervised late nights of listening to this guy rotted my brain and sense of reason.
I dislike clowns but am really afraid of clown dolls. Like the doll from Poltergeist or that awesome USPS commercial where the carrier is supposed to rescue the family from the clown doll. But really who isn’t afraid of clowns.
And if you aren’t afraid of clowns? That’s scary.
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