I have an overactive imagination. I remember asking my sister once if she ever imagined all sorts of awful things that could happen at any particular moment. A phonecall stating the loss of one or both parents. Going around a curve in a car and imagining driving straight instead of with the bend. That sort of thing. She told me, quite enthusiastically, that yes, she does, and isn't it awful, and so forth, and we went on to think whether or not other people have such pessimistic, disaster-driven, sick sorts of minds.

We're still not sure.

I mean, it's helpful, in a way. It made me stop texting and driving. It makes me check Eden's bath water twice before putting her in. But having such a vivid series of horrific images to a person who cries if asked her views on abortion and looks away for more than half of an episode of The Walking Dead can be a bit jarring, to say the least. I might say "oh," out loud, or start singing a church song, or focus really hard on a license plate I'm walking past. I feel I'm quite a paranoid person because of it. I left the back door open when I went on a quick walk to settle Eden down, and when I returned and went to put some laundry in, I was certain I'd left the mechanical room door open and it was closed, and I was holding Eden, and all I could think of was if someone was down there how could I get out of there and get Eden safe, and what if the guy (because it's always a guy) gets Eden from me, and Eden would be crying and confused, and I'd do anything to get her back -- I'd kill the guy, but with what? -- and so I put the basket on the floor without starting the wash and didn't go back downstairs for the rest of the day.

Let's put a positive spin on it: I have a high value on self-preservation and the preservation of those around me.

Maybe that's why I don't have many friends. I'm too afraid of what might happen to them. Ha. Yes, that's it.