Tag archives for paranoia

Friday, August 11, 2006

Trading Up

Jade

I have this paranoia* that my hubby is going to trade up for a younger, prettier, thinner, sexier, barbie doll lookin' kind of wife one of these days. Of course, that train of thought is not quite unfounded, as we found out when the husband-stealing-trollop incident occurred. That wasn't the first incident, however, the others happened while we were merely screwing… erm… dating.

In the 5 years that I have known and loved this man, he has owned no less than 10 different cars. He's never satisfied with anything that he has, constantly looking for that 'something' that is going to be bigger, prettier, faster, fancier, leaner, meaner or just plain better. His constant urge to 'upgrade' feeds my paranoia to no end. It's not just with cars either, although the machine that he drives seems to be his biggest obsession, for the most part. In his eyes, it's all about showing up the Jones', not just keeping up with them. I, not being a materialistic person, go insane when his obsession gets out of control and can not understand why it is that he can't find happiness in what he has and is constantly seeking that which he has not.

Why the constant need to trade up? In your eyes, do I have reason to be paranoid, or is this just another case of 'boys being boys'? If you're a woman, would this cause you to be paranoid about being traded up, too? Maybe I'm just crazy, but it does tend to make me a tad insecure and that fact alone makes me crazy. Generally, I am NOT an insecure person. Yet, I can't help but wonder if someday I will find myself being tossed aside for the newer, shinier model with fewer kilometers and bigger… *ahem*… airbags.

So, while The Fish is on a much deserved vacation, feed my ego and tell me things like "nobody would ever want to trade you in Jade" and then I'll go about my business all happy and stuff. Or, just don't say anything at all, and tell Fish when he gets back what a horrible guest poster I was and that I used his blog as one would use a shrink's couch. I just thought I'd throw out some food for thought and see what Fish's highly intelligent, extremely honest, and fabulously wonderful readers would have to say. I do take everything to heart, so just remember that and you won't make me cry. I will cry, you know, and then I'll find your blogs to stalk at a later date when I've time to do so.

*Paranoia
par-a-noi-a

n. A psychotic disorder characterized by delusions of persecution with or without grandeur, often strenuously defended with apparent logic and reason.

n. Extreme, irrational distrust of others.

Monday, March 28, 2005

It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you

I got off to a late start today, but only by a few minutes. I'm thinking this isn't a problem. I can still make it to work by 9:00 if I don't dawdle.

So The Kid and I get into the car and back to the end of the driveway. And then we wait there. Traffic was unusually heavy on my street this morning so I was stuck there longer than I'd hoped.

This still isn't a problem. I can make it on time. So I'm about a quarter of the way to the daycare, when I come across a utility truck blocking half the street. They're trimming tree branches away from power lines and they've got my side of the street closed off. I had to stop and wait while about a dozen oncoming cars cleared the other side of the street so I could go around. And this on a street where I often see no cars at all.

This might not be a problem. I'll probably still make it on time. So now I'm half way to the daycare. I round a corner… and end up behind a street sweeper. Traffic is heavy enough that it's a few minutes before I can change lanes and get around him.

But maybe this won't be a problem. I might still be able to make it on time. I made it the rest of the way to the daycare without incident. I even get in and out of the daycare faster than usual. Bonus! I think I've picked up a few minutes. I might be on time after all.

So I walk out of the daycare and there's a dump truck parked sideways behind my car. The city's clearing high snow banks and they just happened to start this neighborhood at the exact moment it's the least convenient for me. Had they started five minutes earlier, I could have parked somewhere else.

So I'm stuck behind the slowest moving construction equipment in the history of mankind for just under 78 hours. Ok, it was probably only five or six minutes but it sure as hell felt like a long time.

Finally, the dump truck moves enough for me to get out. I squeak between the yellow painted behemoths and I'm back on my way. I make it the rest of the way to work quickly and without a traffic light falling on me.

I park, grab my lunch, and hustle inside. I get to my desk and glance at the clock. 9:08, it displays accusingly.

I'm telling you, everyone was conspiring against me this morning.