Herewith, my annual list of scary things.
1. Yesterday's five o'clock realization that I'd forgotten to apply deodorant that morning.
2. Toilets that flush forcefully and automatically, quite often when one is still perched upon them.
3. My meeting later today with my new personal trainer, who will be revealing my "metabolic age." (Please, please don't let it be older than 29.)
4. The amount of bubble wrap that certain people find necessary to protect a thimble-sized sample of cheap perfume. The environment cannot sustain my FedEx intake!
5. The CTA's "Doomsday" fare hike/route-slashing scenarios, which I suspect continue to be publicized not because of the lack of state funding but because everyone enjoys the word "doomsday" so intensely.
6. The moment when one's cell phone—which is by no means protected by Sprint's scam of an equipment replacement program—hovers in midair before plummeting with a sickening SMACK to the concrete below.
7. Reviewing my online bank statement and counting the number of times the words "Potbelly's" and "Chipotle" appear on the list of charges.
8. The moment in the hairstylist's chair when the following conversation inevitably occurs:
"How much do you want to take off?"
"Just an inch or two. You know, a trim."
"I think we could go a little more than that. There's a lot of hair here."
"Yeah, but I still want to keep it long."
"But we could do more layers."
9. Pulling an armload of clothes from the flaming hot industrial-strength dryer, only to discover a pair of already-somewhat-snug, lay-flat-to-dry jeans in the mix.
10. One day, Black Beauty will die. Then what?
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