Imagination Overload

A vivid imagination is a good thing if
you’re J.K. Rowling or Walt Disney or M. Night Shyamalan. For me,
it’s a disability.

The wind rattling the window at night is for most, the wind rattling the
window. For me, it’s a frothy mob of rabid
raccoons working themselves into a lather struggling to make
their way into our house to attack me in my bed.

A plane flying low over head signals an aircraft coming in for a
landing. I hear that thunderous hum and duck for cover, certain that
it will crash land in a ball of fire in our backyard at any
moment.

The average recreational walker does not scream like a sissy when being
overtaken by a jogger. How could I be sure I wasn’t being chased by a
mugger? His Nikes were pounding the pavement hard and accelerating
rapidly so I don’t think my assumption was unfounded. Okay, maybe
trying to swat him with my shopping bag was a bit much, but still.

Do you see what I’m dealing with here?

And scary movies? I stupidly watched Paranormal Activity I, II and III and haven’t slept soundly since. I’m still getting over
the whole “The Ring” trauma. My friend phoning me as I arrived home from the theatre to a dark, empty house to inform me that I had “seven days….” in a frightening whisper, scarred me for life. And, don’t
even get me started about my husband’s “Blair Witch standing in a dark corner” impersonation. It nearly gave me an aneurism.

I know I’m not alone. Even “normal” people let their imaginations get
best of them sometimes. But do “normal” people call their
husband’s cell phone in tears, convinced that something
horrible has happened?

I heard on the radio that there had been an accident on the highway my
husband takes to work. I was kind of mean to him that morning— all bossy
and PMSy. Plus, I sent him off in the smaller car when he wanted to take
the van. I whined that I needed it.

Plus, EVERY
morning I say, “Love you. Drive safely.” But this time, I didn’t. He knows this little
ritual puts me at ease. Usually he smiles and says, “Love you
too.” But sometimes, when he’s all smart assy he answers, “Drive
safely? Nah. I’m going to close my eyes and speed and swerve wildly all
over the road.” Not amusing.

So in a panic, I called his cell phone. It rang and rang and rang….on the fourth ring, I started to cry. Oh lordy I killed my husband. I’m a single parent now. Oh god. How am I going to tell the kids and… “Hello?”

He answered and I was so relieved. I told him why I had called.

Silence.

And then, “You’re a freak.”

What? Me? I can’t imagine what he means by that.

Oh wait, yes I can…

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