This morning on the radio show they were talking about irrational childhood fears. They laughed about girls who were afraid of bananas and pickles (which I don't think is very funny at all, but that's probably because of my line of work) and kids who were afraid of the holes in doughnuts and hair curlers and honeycombs.
My irrational childhood fear was fried eggs. I was terrified of fried eggs. Specifically, the crispy brown edges of fried eggs. I thought that's where bees came from. (I sort of related to the honeycomb girl) Fried eggs made me cry and hyperventilate and hide. My grandpa used to make bacon and then fry some eggs in the grease. The smell of bacon made me puke and the eggs made me cry and you could usually find me crouched behind the toilet on Saturday mornings if I was at his house. Which was often because we lived there for a good chunk of time.
That stopped when I was about 11. Mostly because I knew there weren't bees in there but partly because could leave the house without a chaperone. And a little bit because I got tired of crying and puking once a week. Have you ever cried and puked? It's gross. Snot and tears and stuff coming out of the majority of your head holes.
I had a non-interview job, um, "discussion" yesterday. The job sounded wonderful. I'd have been responsible for a large and successful child sexual abuse prevention/education program. Teaching classes to parents and providers and writing cutting edge sex abuse materials and curricula and stuff. I couldn't be better networked with Philadelphia social service/public health service provision agencies than I am now, so the job would be a natural step for me. But the pay is the same as what I'm making now and the benefits aren't as beneficial. Even though the job is bigger. Sometimes things don't make sense. Plus the funding is just as unsteady as the funding for the job I have now so I don't think the move would be worth it. Pennsylvania has an ultra-Conservative Governor right now who pretty much doesn't believe in educating people who aren't well off (or married. Or men. Or already educated. Or straight. Or or or or). He does believe in incarcerating them, so at least there is a plan in place. Things don't look good around these parts for children, the elderly, the poor, the infirm, the unemployed, the underemployed, the uneducated, well- pretty much for anyone who isn't our Governor. Things look great for guys like him. And our budget cuts reflect that.
I'm glad that all my grandparents are dead because I'm scared what their lives could have turned out to be if they weren't.
My dad lives down south and I'm not sure how things are down there and my mom probably has a great pension plan because she has worked for her county for nearly as long as I've been alive but who knows what that will mean ten years from now.
Anyway. Kittens! Right now there are four in my house. I love them all but I will be glad on Sunday night when I'm down to two. Four is a lot. They are living in my bedroom because the construction has started in the basement. Monday there were new steps, which were definitely in order because the ones in there- based on the looks of the left over laminate that was there when we moved in- were probably from the late 40s or early 50s. Yesterday some of the new walls was framed out. And today the plumbers come in and replace the 100 year old sewer line and start laying the pipes for the new bathroom.
You have no idea how badly we need a second toilet in our house. Right now our second toilet is the tub. Or the utility sink. Or the drain hole in the alley behind the house.
We are a disgusting people.
*Alfred Hitchcock was afraid of eggs too.