Just one of the occasional TMI posts on this blog, and then I will get to something much more serious. I need to get this out of my head so I can stop imagining concentric circles growing on my skin. Last night, I felt I was going insane. I mean, I was irritable, my hands were shaking, and I lay in bed, tortured by images in my head.
My husband asked me if there was something I needed to talk about.
“Yes-the fungus growing on the mulch outside the kitchen window.”
Do you know what I’m talking about? That random something that you can’t stand the thought of. Seeing it, hearing it, touching it, makes you feel like someone sliding a straight pin under your fingernails, scratching a chalkboard, or a million ants crawling up your spine. We all squirm at the thought of snakes and spiders, but what about perfectly ordinary things? I used to have a silk scarf when I was a girl with tiny, little circles all over it, pin-head sized white circles and inside, tiny black circles. It reminded me of eyes, snails, some kind of invasive growth. I would close my eyes and shove it out of sight anytime I encountered it.
Yesterday, I happened to glance out the kitchen window and an irregular pattern caught my eye. WAIT-THERE SHOULDN’T BE A PATTERN ON MULCH! My evening was ruined. I felt compelled to look out the window every few minutes, squinting so I wouldn’t really see the pattern of circles—just a little bit. I lay awake last night relishing the thought of running out in the darkness in my nightgown with a rake, scraping off and pulverizing everyone of those ghastly, little circles.
I asked my husband to remove them in the morning, and he forgot. When I went out to take pictures of the offensive growth, I half-expected the circles to suddenly start multiplying until they reached my feet, growing in between my toes and on my tongue, finally encasing me in a crust of tiny barnacles.
Doesn’t that completely freak you out? *shudder* ... No? Hmmmmm …