So I mentioned one unreasonable fear. Today I found another.

Food disposal, sink disposal, waste disposal?  What do we call it?  What's the right word?  Well, I have yet another irrational fear.  Luckily my food disposal doesn't require that I fill that bad boy up with petroleum and cause a static fire.  I fear putting my hand in the disposal.  This morning the disposal was making a weird, grinding noise.  I hated the thought of sticking my fist in that hole.  (That sentence belongs on an entirely different blog, wow.)  But clearly something was wrong.

Why do I question reaching in?  It's not like my other hand is going to reach over and flip the switch.  It's not like some freak electrical malfunction is going to throw the switch and rip my hand to shreds.  It's my mom's fault.  She warned me. OVER and OVER.  Be careful. you'll lose your fingers. Maybe your whole hand.  GROSS!

Today, while reaching in and saying a little prayer I found limes from last night's cocktails.  Those should be in the composter you loser!  ooops.  forgot.  But I also found a torn up piece of "plastic who knows what" that totally doesn't belong in the composter.   Risked my life for that crazy piece of plastic.

Glad to be alive.  Still afraid of the disposal.  Be careful out there, especially in the kitchen.

After paying yet another Vet bill....this is how I feel. Warning. They say "fuck." Which is what I said after paying yet another vet bill.

I would like Foghorn Leghorn on my forehead please. And, by the way what do you charge for that?

I saw a van with curtains today, at the liquor store.  Vans with curtains make me nervous.  Who buys a van with curtains?  And then if you have a van with curtains, why do you keep them drawn?  It makes me nervous.

Face tattoos make me uncomfortable.  How bad do you have to hate your face to tattoo it?  What about a tattoo will make your face better?

Just a few things I am pondering.  Pondering....