Spring Fever—much ado about everything (so what else is new)

 

Every year, around this time or so, I begin having anxiety attacks.  I’m not sure why that is, but I think it has something to do with the warmer weather approaching and not having enough good excuses to stay indoors and hide out from the rest of the world.  Such is the life of a borderline hermit. 

(I don’t dislike spring, far from it; but why do we seem to go from 25F to 85F in no time flat?  It wasn’t always this way… the older I get, spring is becoming less a season and more a rumor.)

Anyway, I’m sure my seasonal anxiety is a normal thing, like allergies.  We’ve all experienced those “I hope no one discovers how weird I really am” feelings, only to discover we’re not alone.  I can still remember sometime in my early twenties when my bladder froze up if I was in the bathroom and knew someone else was within earshot.  How or why did that start?   I was so relieved the first time I heard the term “bashful bladder syndrome” (but it was a greater relief when it went away on it’s own a few years ago).  Now I can turn on the waterworks without a second thought (probably because of my enlarged prostate) and yes I know, I share too much.  Is that a sign of old age?  I’m starting to feel anxious again.

Of course, I feel silly even sharing my anxious feelings right now given the recent tragedies in Boston and Texas (and lets not forget China and that godawful earthquake).  Some things, all you can do is watch the events unfold on your television or computer and shake your head in sorrow and disbelief.  I know my “spring attacks” don’t compare to the real loss so many others are contending with right now, at least I can make light of my own neuroses.

 

Last week my niece Sophia was in a bad bike accident, with some severe injuries to her arm, knee and head; I’ll feel a lot better when she stops being Evel Knievel or turns 90, whichever comes first!

 

Suffice it to say that everything is getting under my skin right now;  I think my irksome gay neighbors are winning the war for starters—so is the fat around my midsection.  I’m worried that my job is going to give me a heart attack but I don’t dare leave because I’m going to need those health benefits for that heart transplant (do you see the vicious cycle here?) & dammit I’m even fretting over the demise of the incandescent bulb, my last 75 watt bulb popped yesterday & they’re no longer being made!  If I’m going to sit here and sweat things out how can I do so without proper lighting?

And on THAT note, I would like to share one optimistic thing; I may be a worry-wart right now, but there are others out there worse than me.  Thursday night after work, I got on my downtown bus to go home (with a couple ladies also at my stop).  One of them pointed down at one seat & said “omigod, look at that!”  It was a jar of peanut butter sitting in the center of a seat.  The other woman said “it’s probably a bomb” and the first one said “or full of ricin” and they hurried past it on their way to the back.  I picked it up and put it in my workbag and sat down.

When I got home I twisted off the lid to see if it’d been tampered with, and it still had its inner seal.  Giant Eagle PB isn’t exactly my favorite brand, but when it’s a 2 pound jar & free, it’s good enough for me!