One of the reasons I had trouble sleeping a few weeks ago was my life-long habit of obsessing about terrible things that could happen to us in Africa (ie, hippo + canoe = death).
This morning when I was brewing up my (arguably unnecessary) next cup of coffee, I mused to Trevor about our former upstairs tenant’s comment that her new neighborhood seems safe, except for the gunshots. People get killed in their own living rooms from stray bullets. This makes perfect sense; a wall is nothing more than wood studs, drywall (paper and dust), fiberglass or foam insulation and plastic or wood siding. None of these is particularly bulletproof. Do people living in high-crime areas have bulletproof walls? Do they even make such a thing?
Trevor says my next book should be called Worrisome Things that Would Never Occur to a Regular Person or, Tapping into the Vast Reservoir of Lisa’s Paranoid Curiosity.
I realize that while I am nervous about moving to Africa, high anxiety is a normal state for me and no reason to be alarmed.
1 comment:
Even though this is a serious situation - you moving to freakin' Africa, you still can make me laugh.
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