If you’ve been around here very long, you’ve read something about (or seen comments by) Christina. She’s one of my co-workers, and an all-around good sort.
She even loves the robin’s egg-espresso colour combo that seems to be infecting my wardrobe and interior design efforts as of late. And Starbucks. And musician boys (she married a drummer.) So we have a lot in common.
One thing we do NOT have in common, however, is a fear of rebar.
Christina? Is petrified of rebar. Do you know what rebar is? Let me show you (Christina, don’t look!):
I don’t think she believes rebar will jump out and attack her, but I DO think she is somewhat concerned that she might fall on some rebar, and be injured or impaled by it.
I don’t think there is a scientific name for this fear. But it’s real.
And she probably shouldn’t have told me.
After Johanna noticed a story in one of our free dailies about a man getting stabbed in the face with rebar, she said, “Ooh, we better not let Christina see that.”
I ran to show her.
She feels a little faint right now.
I don’t know why I’m such a jerk, really, especially considering I have some very weird fears of my own:
Clowns
Butterflies
Scorpions
Blue foods
Losing my hair
Cutting my fingernails too short and touching styrofoam
What are you scared of, both rationally and irrationally? What totally makes your skin crawl?
