I worry. I wonder all the time, why worry? It’s killing me, forget about it!

Well, I got my car washed today.

This was stupid on a few accounts:

1.)    Hi, I live in Michigan where it snows, like, every day. My car is going to get covered in snow and salt and slush and dirt and all kinds of crazy shit in less than a day. Dumb.

2.)    Some of the simplest parts of the process of the carwash confuse me

1. I never know when to put my car in neutral
2. I feel like an idiot when I ask when I’m supposed to put the car in neutral

3.)     The carwash scares the hell out of me.

4.)    I was by myself and the carwash scares the hell out of me.

I know I’ve talked about this before, but seriously, it’s as relevant today as it was then.

Now, in my recent history with going through the carwash, I have had someone in the car with me to distract me from my meltdown.  Actually, I can really only recall my family and Megan going through the carwash with me in recent history, and those times include my family and Megan mostly just laughing hysterically at me and doing nothing to help me chill the fuck out.

Dicks.

I’d say it’s an irrational fear, but I’m pretty sure I understand the reasoning behind this fear I have. So, I won’t say it because then it would be false.

It pretty much all goes back to how I constantly worry I’m going to die.

Oh, and confined spaces kinda freak me out.

Oh, and I really don’t like how it gets all dark and my car is moving magically by itself (WHAT’S THAT ABOUT?!!?) and the noise the washy things make and how the blow-dryers spew fire to get rid of the water.

ZOMG Creeps!

Just imagine if for some reason the magic spell broke and my car stopped moving but I couldn’t move my car because all the washing rolly things were all in my way and I couldn’t even see because the wipey things were covering all my windows and mirrors and then something went wrong that caused the blow-dryers to blow their fire too fiercely that made the fire spread and feed off the chemicals in the soap and water did nothing to stop anything and then the garage doors closed due to some type of malfunction and I died of carbon monoxide poisoning because my car was still on and I was not even aware that the doors were closed.

WHAT THEN?!

At least then all of you little dickholes who make fun of me for being scared of the carwash would feel really guilty because it turned out all my worst fears about it came true.

When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head, you feel the world shake from the words that are said, and I’m callin’ all angels…

Last week I received a text that actually made me stop what I was doing and then run downstairs and ask Drew what the fuck it meant.

I was just about to leave for work and my phone buzzed. I assumed it was one of the girls at work texting me to ask me to pick some kind of food or beverage on my way into work. But ohhh, no. When I looked at my phone, I read the text and felt my breath catch.

Your dad is doing chemo this morning so shoot him a text if you get a chance.

Obviously, this is alarming.

1.)    Why the fuck didn’t I know Dad had cancer???

2.)    Which one of my loved ones’ phone numbers do I not already have stored in my phone?

3.)    WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T I KNOW DAD HAD CANCER?!

So, I read it over a couple times.

The text came from a phone number that wasn’t in my phonebook, nor was it one I recognized.

This fact was the only thing that kept me from flying into a full-blown meltdown. I mean, seriously,this felt way worse than the tailspin I flew into when I read on facebook that my stepbrother broke his spine. (True story! My family is soooo good at communicating bad news! Oh, and Brandon is fine- albeit he’ll be in pain and have back issues for the rest of his life- despite breaking his back, just in case you were worried.)

So, yeah, I was kinda freaking out.

I bolted down stairs and made Drew read it. I think he was only half dressed after just getting out of the shower. Although, now that I think about it, the closed door to the bathroom wouldn’t have stopped me in the least. Upon sharing this news with him, I made Drew text Dad while I tried to think of who would send me something like that.

I went through a mental checklist of people:  It couldn’t be my step-mom, I already have her number. And Brandon & Andrew- they’re both in my phone too. And for my Dad’s brothers and sisters, well, they would all have a different area code. So then my thoughts went to family friends- there was one that Drew and I agreed upon. The only thing about that was that particular family friend was stored in Drew’s phone, and the number didn’t match the one from the text message.

Finally, I texted Dad myself (as I was driving to work, trying not to freak the fuck out).

I didn’t know I was sick.

Wow, thanks for clearing that up, Dad!

Then he told me that I would know if he was in the hospital.

Good to know!

I’m glad he tried to make light of the situation. I seriously don’t know what I would have done if I would have gotten anything other than what I did receive. I mean, go ahead and call me an alarmist, but dude- that is NOT the way to find out your dad has cancer.

Besides, I should have known better. The rational part of me did know, all along, that Dad was totally fine and that this was simply a wrong number. But there’s always that tiny voice in my head that whispers all the horrible things you never even want to think about. And it never hurts to just make sure.

I never did find out whose dad was doing chemo that morning, nor did I find out from whom the text came.

For just a moment, in my head, I sent up a silent prayer for the family who was going through that, and I hoped that whoever that dad belongs to comes out of that fight on top.