Fretting the Small Stuff

Satisfying the Paranoid Within

I firmly believe the internet, google, and webmd were invented for people like me.  Have a symptom?  Click on WebMD, point to a body part and WHAMO! you have a diagnosis.  Or something very simplistic like that.  Concerned about a weird twinge or ache? Just go to a chat group, pose the question and PRESTO! ten folks responds with their experiences, which honestly, OH MY GOD I wish I didn't ask.  Do you know what this is like for a hypochondriac like me?  It's like new pairs of free Manolo Blahniks for Carrie in her closet.  Instant satisfaction! Or is it?

I could tell you stories about weird diseases I thought I had growing up.  My parents probably wished that my imagination would settle down from time to time but that dull headache really possibly likely maybe was a brain tumor!  However at that point, I did not have the handy internet to back up my fears.  Oh, and did you know I have adult ADD?  Really, I do!  I took a quiz on a pharmaceutical website and it said so (of course doesn't every adult in the U.S. have it with big box stores, 200 television channels, and that shiny distraction called the internet?).  Perhaps they wanted me to call my doctor about handy dandy drug X.

So of course with all that temperature taking, and waiting, and symptom checking, and body monitoring, I'm on HIGH ALERT! If I feel a twinge, does that mean ____?   Well what exactly does CM look like and is this really egg white consistency (I apologize for the TMI but Stella will back me up here, right Sister?)  Sure I should be laid back, chill, zen, yogi and such but dude(s), that is so not in my fiber.  Especially when I have the internet at my beck and call to provide me with all the answers. 

Like many other lovely ladies, I think that I'll step away from the whole internet symptom searching scene and let it all be a big freakin' mystery for a while.  Until I can no longer take it, and I'm right back there researching something crazy like retroverted uterus. 

Last Day of NaMoBloPo and Whoa

Whoohoo!  I made it!  What do I get?  I hope those who have NaMoBloPo'ed with me will come back and visit.  It's been fun but soooooo hard since I started my new job.  But I have to say I am proud and surprised that I actually finished.   I sort of feel like I went through a lot in a month and it was pretty cool to share it with you all.  I hope to keep up with Bipolarlawyercook, Adverse Possession, and many other folks who stop by and who I read.  Just too many to name! 

Congratulations to everyone else!   

FIRE!

Now don't you all go running to the exits at once!  I know, I shouldn't being yelling "fire" in a crowded room.  I just get excited easily. So this past Saturday night, I went to dinner with some friends and their friends to my favorite restaurant here in my lovely city (sarcasm).  By the way, this restaurant, the only one that serves Thai food in this city?  The restaurant that has atmosphere, curry, and live jazz?  It's closing because the owners hate me.  So there.  PLEASE DON'T GO! I'LL BE NICE!   COME BACK!

Okay, where was I?  Fire.  Right.  No, there wasn't a fire at the restaurant but there was the city's former fire chief at my table.  Yes, that is right.  The man who is an expert on all things flammable.  Do you know how much restraint I needed to keep myself from asking him all my irrational questions about how fires are started?  Let me tell you:  a whole hell of lot.  Basically, I have a fear that was developed, nurtured, and crafted by my mother (thanks mom!) that an appliance will catch on fire BECAUSE IT IS STILL PLUGGED IN TO A LIVE SOCKET THAT CARRIES DANGEROUS ELECTRICITY. This means that before I leave the house, I will check every appliance to make sure it is OFF OFF OFF (I say this in my head) and I check all the burners on the stove to make sure they are OFF OFF OFF.  There are times that I drive back to my house after leaving for work to quintuple check that everything is actually indeed really truly OFF OFF OFF.  And there have also been a handful of occasions that I called my house to make sure that my answering machine will pick up because that will mean my house hasn't burned down.  Wow.  It sounds even crazier as I see the words on my computer screen.  Don't worry, I take my meds semi-regularly.

My fear is not completely irrational.  When I attended graduate school down south, I shared a duplex with a law student and a single woman lived on the other side.  This was an older house that had this small furnace under a giant grate in the hallway in each side of the duplex.  For some reason, the woman on the other side thought it would be the best idea ever to put an area rug over the grate.  Um.  Yeah.  So naturally, it caught on fire and I awoke in the morning to the smell of what I initially thought was incense pouring into my house.  I wondered why the hell someone would burn so much incense.  Did I pass out last night and wake up Grateful Dead concert or Easter services at a Catholic church?  And then: DING DING!  I realized it was smoke (meaning FIRE!) so I called 911, threw on my robe, and grabbed my roommate's dog, Marley. 

Segue:  Marley is my second favorite dog after Finnegan.  I'm sure he is no longer alive but god I loved that dog.

So the fire trucks came screaming down the street and, oh my god, the hottest firemen came running.  Of course, I was wearing a flannel night gown, sweat pants, and a bathrobe.  Yeah, I looked sexay.  One of the especially hot steaming fire fighters came over and asked if my neighbor had a cat because they found cat toys but couldn't find the cat.  At that moment, I fell in love a little because sexy Mr. Fire Fighter was actually attempting to save a cat's life.  Wow.  The fire ended up just causing smoke damage on our side of the house so we ended up being fine.  Oh, and the cat was at someone else's house because the dumb neighbor was gone for the weekend.  Everyone survived.

Well obviously on Saturday night, since I was in the presence of greatness, a real honest to god fire fighter, I had about five thousand questions regarding irrational fire safety.  Like, will my toaster oven turn itself on and spontaneously combust?  Will the fire fighters see the "Save My Pets" sign and actually save them?   If I leave a fan on for more than two hours, will the little engine overheat and catch on fire?  Can my refrigerator catch on fire because it's 5,000 years old just because it's 5,000 years old?    How often do driers actually catch on fire and can I ever leave the house or go to sleep when it is on?  I know there are more questions in my head but if I write them down I will question my sanity just a little bit more than I already do.

Fortunately for the fire fighter and everyone else at the table, I did not grill him with questions.  I maintained my composure but my husband could tell I totally wanted to draft a list of demands (Questions! I mean questions!) for him to answer.  Hurray for medicinally induced restraint!