Fears change and subside throughout one’s lifetime. For example, even as little as five years ago I would go to bed in my empty house and feel fear at the thought of someone breaking in and murdering me. And now? Last night I was so tired going to bed, that despite the quiet echo of the house that led my mind once again to thoughts of home invasion and evisceration, I only had one thought.
“At least then I could sleep in in the morning. And I could forget about getting that presentation ready.”
More irrational fears and my accompanying indifference:
Being possessed by the witch who most certainly lives in my attic:
Might be fun to speak in tongues, and flying sounds fun. But I will NOT join a coven. I hate dressing thematically.
Being in an airplane crash:
Maybe only I and that hot guy in 4D will survive, his wife won’t, and I can capitalize on the 4.5- minute opportunity during which a widower is a widower before he remarries. And being stranded on a desert island is a great weight loss opportunity.
Being attacked by a shark, a bear or any other wild animal:
Instant book deal. If I don’t croak.
Getting lost somewhere sketchy or remote when traveling:
Ending up in an unfamiliar ghetto or a remote desert canyon at sunset is better than sitting in the house bored.
Getting put in an old-age home:
Meals made for me. Naps. Jewelry-making, bingo and square dancing. Hot single old guys. Sign me up, bitch.
A house fire:
This one is no joke. I’m still afraid of house fires. And other things like tax season, and the FAFSA, and crickets. But for the most part, I am fearless.
Getting older has its perks.