An Incomplete and Growing List of My Completely Irrational Fears

That I take uneven steps

That my kids will become Republicans

That I look easy to attack

That the Starbucks baristas think I go there too much

That all my friends secretly hate me

That I’ll get a disease from a toilet seat

That if I inhale when I walk by a trash can, I’ll get some sort of airborne trash disease

That if I step on a bit of uneven or warped floor, I will sink in and be covered in whatever germs are lurking underneath

That the Starbuck baristas think I expect them to remember my name and therefore resent me for thinking they should care about me

That I’ll die and be reincarnated into a body that will live to see the world end

That if I’m wearing too much of one color, people will judge me for not being more fashionable

That if I openly care about fashion, people will judge me for falling prey to the patriarchy and its idea of what women should care about

That I’ll run out of food in Cafeland because I’m too busy to check on it, therefore losing my four-star rating

That someone is watching my life Truman Show-style

That that person wishes I’d stop listening to the same album on repeat all day

That my husband’s cat wants to murder me

That any large group of birds I see hanging out on telephone polls is secretly plotting the downfall of humanity

That I’ll actually succeed at something and have to concede that I’m not the failure I think I am

That the Starbucks baristas judge me for getting the same order every time