That Really Happened

The year was 2000, and Larry and I had just moved in together, along with my two cats and his yellow Lab.  It was too early in the morning to be awake; I was in the shower, half asleep.  As I rinsed the shampoo from my hair, I felt a disturbance in The Force, my ninja third eye, or something.  I somehow knew that something had fallen from the ceiling, and I opened my eyes and looked at my feet.

What had fallen from the ceiling was a 3-inch-long cockroach. Take a moment to process that visual.  I'll wait.

I am terrified of cockroaches.  I am particularly terrified of cockroaches the size of small dogs.  The only thing that I am more afraid of is a very tiny room full of cockroaches, because I also have raging claustrophobia. And now here was a THREE-INCH-LONG COCKROACH in the shower with me, doing a passable backstroke.

He might have waved. I'm not sure.

I immediately leapt into action.  Screaming, first of all, because that always helps.  Then I went vertical, right out of the tub.  Unfortunately, once I hit the floor, my wet feet started sliding toward the wall opposite the tub.  Trying to stop my sliding feet, I grabbed at whatever was close, which turned out to be the shower curtain...and the towel rack.

I realized my error with the shower curtain as the entire ensemble, curtain and rod, fell on me.  I had the uncontrolled slide to worry about, however.  I gripped the towel rack hard.

And that's when the entire towel rack ripped right out of the wall.

I ended up in a wet, naked heap on the floor, a pile of plaster-covered shower curtain next to me, the sound of the shower suddenly loud.  Somewhere in the distance, I could hear barking.  The bathroom door suddenly rammed into my hip, and my husband-to-be hovered over me.

"What the heck happened?"

I just pointed to the tub while Sandy the Wonder Dog licked the water from my face.  Larry leaned so he could look in the tub. To his credit, he did not laugh.  He turned off the water, helped me up, and found me a dry towel.  Then he and Sandy killed the cockroach so that we could all get back to normal.

Normal being a relative term.




2.) Share one of your “did that really just happen to me” life moments.

The A-List: Fear Itself

Everyone has something that they are scared of.  If someone tells you that they aren't afraid of anything, or at least nervous, then they are either lying or a psychopath, and you should stay away from them.  At the very least, there's bound to be at least one thing that has us quaking in our boots, or fainting dead away, or some other extreme response.  It's normal, to be scared.  This is your brain's way of protecting you, and it's why humans have survived.  When you're scared, you tend to move away from what scares you.   This is a perfectly logical decision that is not based in any way on anything silly.  Unless it is. The brain is sometimes funny about fear responses.  I have yet to come up with a logical reason for someone to be afraid of the number 13, for instance.  That I am willing to consider that there might even BE a logical reason to be afraid of the number 13 tells you that I have become quite a bit more reasonable in my 'over the hill' years. 

When I was a kid, I had the standard kid fears about the monster under the bed, the dark, etc. As I grew, I realized that it was silly to be afraid of monsters under the bed, since everyone knows that they are in the closet.  In my twenties, I tried to focus on more realistic things to be afraid of, such as serial killers or bad hair.  Then my thirties showed up, and suddenly things that I'd never dreamed of being afraid of were popping up on the radar.  Here are some of the things that I am scared of, or at least extremely and unreasonably nervous about.  

1. Enclosed spaces  I was never claustrophobic until I had an MRI, and now even taking the elevator is a challenge.  All I thought about when they put me in that tube was "Wow, this is what being in a coffin would be like..." and it was downhill from there.  Since I am not one to give in to my fears, I did have the MRI, but it took TWO Xanax, and my husband had to sit in the room and keep his hand on my ankle.  People at work think that I am odd because I won't stay on the elevator if there's too many people on it, but in my brain more people=less oxygen.  I'd rather walk down the stairs, even if I have to use my inhaler.

2. Heights   Let me clarify: I'm not really afraid of heights.  I'm actually afraid of falling from heights.  And it's not just any sort of heights that make me concerned about falling.  If I am in a tall building, for example, I am not all that worried about falling.  I wouldn't go up in the Space Needle in Seattle, or the Empire State Building, because of the elevators, but I expect that I would have been fine once I got to the top.  I did fine when I climbed the stairs in the Washington Monument, and that venerable monument has been in the process of falling since it was built.  If I climb a ladder, however, I automatically feel all wonky, and it makes me nervous.  It's probably some sort of vestibular thing.  I'm also tactile defensive, but that hasn't manifested in any unreasonable fears yet. 

3. Cockroaches  I firmly believe that all things serve a purpose.  Even cockroaches.  There has to be a reason that they exist, right?  That said, cockroaches give me the heebie-jeebies.  They make my skin crawl.  Imagine my horror when I found out the hard way that there are some cockroaches that fly!  When I see a cockroach in my house, I must kill it.  I must find a very hard shoe and smash that cockroach into oblivion, because I have learned that sprays don't always work to kill them. In fact, sometimes when you spray them, they will chase you.  When the cockroach is deceased, I have to disinfect the shoe, and the floor, and myself.  Because, ICK!   Of course, now I pay a pest control company to spray around the house.  It's worth every penny.

4. Not being able to breathe  This is a no-brainer; I know exactly where this fear came from.  In 2003, I was on a respirator for a little while.  Ever since then, I've had nightmares where I can't breathe.  I looked it up, and this is a common thing for people who have been on respirators.  It's sort of a post-traumatic stress thing, I guess.  Being on a respirator is traumatic, and not just because of the reason you are put on the respirator.  When you wake up and realize that you are not actually breathing on your own, you freak out.  And then, when they pull that tube out of your lungs, it doesn't hurt, but it is indescribably weird.  It's like your lungs are trying to inhale while the tube is being pulled out

5. Crowds  In my twenties I was always in the mosh pit at concerts; today, I will pay extra to not be anywhere near a crowd.  I am not even sure when I started being nervous about crowds.  It sort of just was there.  I am a short person, and I hate not being able to see what is going on around me when I am surrounded by taller people.  I also don't like that crowds tend to have a mind of their own.  Like a herd of cattle, any crowd could suddenly decide to stampede, and I would be stuck.  This fear has become worse since I had my son, because he likes to run ahead and I'm afraid that I will lose him.  Luckily, I married a tall man, and when we are in crowds, I just stick close to him.  And I make him hold on to Zane.

Those are my top five.  What are YOU afraid of?

In The Halls of Random

For my birthday I had myself measured for a bra.  It is always best to see if you've grown or shrank or whatever.  For many years, I felt that I was a C cup size.  Somewhere along the way I graduated to a D cup...except when it's a molded cup.  Then I'm either a B or a C, but not a D, and certainly not a DD.  Don't get me started about the demis, the balconettes, the plunges.  How does that even work?  Is there some arcane aspect of physics involved in breast size?  Could this science be why men are so interested in mammaries? All this has made me realize that finding a correctly fitting bra requires some sort of college degree.  A doctorate.  A dissertation on why there are no CC bras would be a good start.

We have a little pool in the back yard, for Zane to splash around.  Except that we can't let it sit in one spot for too long, since it will kill the grass.  Also, standing water attracts mosquitoes, who lay their eggs in it.  Then there are the various accidental drownings which occur due to insects not realizing that the water is deep; bugs don't get swimming lessons, or learn to just float on their backs.  I tried to let some of the water out of the pool, and that was when I found out exactly how many cockroaches are in my backyard. Have I mentioned my morbid fear of cockroaches?  Here I am, barefoot, while these prehistoric monsters crawl toward me.  I did the only thing that I could, of course.  I leapt straight into the air and landed on the patio, a good two feet of distance.  Fear is a good motivator on occasion. 

Source: ohemmy.blogspot.com via Tina on Pinterest

I am supposed to have a Girls' Night Out to see the movie Magic Mike.  Not that I am all that into the whole stripper thing.  When I worked as a bartender at a club, they would have strippers come in on Fridays for the ladies.  Those guys were prissier than me, especially about their hair.   That sort of prissiness does not inspire lustful feelings, but it is interesting to observe the crowd behaviors.  I am joining my friends at this movie to show solidarity.   I am hopeful that there is a storyline to follow. 

I just finished World War Z.  It was interesting, if a bit disjointed.  That disjointedness may have come from my end.  Every time I started actually focusing on the book I was interrupted by a boy, or his dad.  That sort of thing is happening more and more often, so my reading time is becoming limited. I am hopeful that once Zane learns to read, we can have regularly scheduled reading time for both of us. 

My niece is about to embark on the gargantuan task of reading Stephen King.  It is certainly not for the faint of heart.  I started her off with Night Shift, small bites.  Although King's short stories scared me more than most of his novels.  I gave my niece The Shining also, so she can check into the Overlook hotel.  Then I tell her that the Overlook is a real place called the Stanley, and see if she wants to go there. Ghostbusters has nothing on my family!

So I am heading over to Stacy's place to drink her wine--looking forward to the sangria!





And I am also going to be visiting the lovelies over at Talk to Us Tuesdays

RemembeRED: Why It's A Phobia

For this week’s memoir prompt, we’re going to let narrative take a backseat. Choose a moment from your personal history and mine it for sensory detail. Describe it to us in rich, evocative details. Let us breath the air, hear the heartbeat, the songs, feel the fabric and the touch of that moment. I will probably have nightmares about this one!


*scritch*

*scritch*

I open my eyes to darkness, pitch black, heart thudding in my chest.

What?

*scritch-scritch-scritch*

I wake up fully, and the darkness seems more ominous, more threatening.

*scritch-scritch*

It is a stealthy sound, tiptoeing. Furtive.

*scritch*

I am not afraid of the dark, I tell myself.

Is it coming closer? It is impossible to tell over the sound of my heart trying to escape from my chest.

*scritch*

My brain is frantically trying to identify that sound, that whispery scratching sound. If I don't move, maybe whatever is making that sound will go away.

*scritch-scritch-scritch-scritch*

I am not afraid of the dark, I tell myself. What concerned me was what might be IN the dark with me.

*scrit-scritch-scri---*

I have never been the kind of person to wait for approaching peril, and finally I can stand it no longer. I jump up in the darkness to find the light switch. I turn to confront the monster.

And freeze.

There, on the stack of printer paper NEXT to the bed, right NEXT to my pillow, right NEXT to where I had been sleeping...was a cockroach.

An extremely large cockroach.