I don't know if I have more or fewer fears than other people, but one of my big ones is sinkholes.
It is up there with hippos and raccoons and rabies. The first of which I've been reminded I'm unlikely to encounter in DC.
Hipsters, yes. Hippos, no. Hipsters, they scare me not. Hippos can turn on a dime, and they're fast and mean. I doubt the same is true of hipsters.
Oh, also Cape Buffalo and swans (this one is new, as of Sunday). Did you know that swans will drown people deliberately? Symbol of purity and love and brutal drowning death.
In fact, now I wonder about the average number of fears of the average person. Five? Thirty-seven?
I might make a fear list.
Here's the thing. Yesterday this sinkhole opened up in our neighborhood. A sinkhole. In DC. In our neighborhood. I got messages and texts from friends, and immediately flipped out.
It just opened up, as they do. No warning. Reports were that it was 25 feet deep. A corgi, I was told, was nearly lost to it.
There was a lot of commotion and police activity and road closing and such surrounding the sinkhole. Which, you know, is appropriate.
Although it did turn out to be a sinkhole of the rather modest variety. Basically the size of a sidewalk square, and only 3-4 feet deep.
I know corgis have short legs, but really.
However. Sinkholes, they are no laughing matter. The ground opens up and that is that. Could be a little hole with a visible bottom. Could be a chasm to hell.
I mean, you know about that gigantor one in Guatemala that swallowed a city block? Or the guy who was just lying in his bed in Florida and this sinkhole opened and sucked him in and there he was, falling all the way to China.
I can't think of much worse than dying in a sinkhole in Florida, personally.
Maybe being hacked to death with machetes. Or being poisoned slowly. Or being drawn and quartered.
OK, so I can, now that I think about it. But it's up there.
Nick's father is ill, and his parents, who drive to Florida every winter, had to fly home to New Jersey last week. So Nick is flying to Miami and driving their car back this weekend.
Even before the sinkhole business, all that driving alone makes me nervous. I am a fretter. I just am.
And now, it turns out it's sinkhole season in Florida. SINKFUCKINGHOLE SEASON.
I mentioned this today and Nick was all, "What season?"
"Sink. Hole. Sinkhole."
"Yes. I forgot sinkholes are the new rabies."
That's right, my friend. That is right. Just as stealthy, and even more deadly.