I tried to leave a comment on someone’s blog the other day and the Capcha window popped up. Obviously this triggered an immediate urge to KILL but I had to soldier on, because what I’d just said was super brilliant and the internet might implode without my insight. Only problem was this was a new scourge of capcha. It wanted me to identify photos of sandwiches:
I immediately began to panic. What if I can’t tell which one is a sandwich? It sounds stupid but what is a sandwich really? I had one the other day that had an entire baby lamb skewered inside of it plus bean sprouts and some repurposed newspaper clippings from Mumbai. I’ve also had sandwiches that were nothing more than day old bread with Nutella slathered inside. It took me two guesses but I finally got the capcha right and was told I’m not a robot. That’s a relief.
There’s something about trying to say “yes, this” and “no, not that” in the moment makes me panic. The only thing I can properly identify is an asshole. But you know what’s even worse?
Trying to unlock a door while someone is watching: I’ll always inevitably put the key in upside down or turn it the wrong way or not even be able to get it in the hole—even when I’m totally sober. *insert obligatory drunk sex joke*
This is kind of like when you go to plug in a USB cord. It’s best to go ahead and accept defeat before you even try. Sure, there’s a 50% chance you’re going to get it right—but then you second guess yourself based on those odds and (if you’re me) score a 99% fail rate.
Only thing worse than that is when Alex is in the passenger seat of my car. I’ve driven across the US on more than one occasion, braving traffic jams in places like Boston and New York City. But somehow the seemingly simple task of taking my turn at a 4-way stop sign or trying to park against a curb becomes monumentally difficult under his watchful eye/while he’s sitting there reading an article on his phone about ancient Babylonia or something.
But wait. There IS something worse: Trying to remove your shoes at airport security. I overly scrutinize my every action but it never seems to help. I’m so determined to not be the weakest in the chain or to hold up the line that I shuffle along, watching everyone else remove their belts, thinking “should I remove my shoes now? Or now? Maybe now?”
If you wait too long, you’ll be ripping them off and flinging them haphazardly while everyone behind you rolls their eyes and sighs loudly. BUT if you take them off too soon you’ll feel like a fool, shuffling along on the sides of your feet, trying not to catch a fungus while wondering why you didn’t remember—for the millionth time– to bring a pair of socks for this exact reason. But then you know there’s no way you could handle the multistep process of removing your sandals and putting on socks while trying not to leave your baggage unattended or spill your bag of snacks.
Oh but then there’s the traffic after a firework show… But I’m not ready to talk about it. Traveling alone around the world? No problem. Having to testify against an abusive ex? Bring it on. Trying to wrap a present while someone else is watching, scrutinizing your every uneven flap and fingerprint-y piece of tape? Absolute panic.
What routine things make YOU panic? Do you ever overthink a seemingly simple process? Is there anything that triggers your immediate “KILL” instinct?
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