I've been nervous about a lot of things lately. More nervous than usual, which should be impossible since I'm constantly nervous about something. I'm worried that my beautiful new IKEA plant will suddenly turn yellow and die like it always does after four months. I can't stop thinking air conditioning units will fall from the windows of tall city buildings as I stroll beneath them. I lie awake and fret about contracting MRSA from bus and subway handrails. I'm overly concerned with ingesting toxic mold from organic peanuts, hydroplaning off exit ramps and breathing in micro-organisms thriving in the mist of my humidifier. I'm not totally sure if I'm allergic to any anesthetics but whenever the dentist asks me, I always say no. Inevitably for the rest of the appointment, my mind cycles through numerous death scenarios, most of which involve my throat swelling shut as I writhe and gasp for breath under the spotlights, helplessly reclined in that awful chair while bubbly cute, ill-prepared technicians scramble around searching for life-saving equipment that doesn't exist.
