That hair I found on my shoulder? It’s haunting me. One theory may be that it was not able to fulfill its bucket list.
However, I am more inclined to believe it’s just my paranoia and ability to over-think things. I haven’t officially started my job — which is a blog post for another evening when I’m not quite so frustrated — and I have a lot of time on my hands. That coupled with a strange imagination has created quite the list of weird things about which I can’t stop thinking.
One of those things: I’m terrified that when I’m driving over a bridge with my windows down, some fisherman is going to go to cast out his line and the hook is going to fly through my window, catch on my ear, and viciously yank my ear from my head.
I haven’t even heard of this happening. I’ve seen someone get a hook in his back, but I’ve never seen a fishing hook pull off someone’s ear. How this idea popped into my head, I have yet to find out. I just make sure I roll up my windows before I drive across a bridge.
Another weird thing: I worry that when I’m driving past a golf course with my windows down, someone’s golf ball is going to fly through my open window, hitting me in the head and knocking me unconscious. Then my car will careen out of control and I’ll I drive into the nearest water hazard.
Again, this is something of which I’ve never heard happening. Someday it might. I even Googled “golf ball through car window unconscious,” so now I know how so many weird people end up at my blog.
Someday I’m going to call every hospital ever and I’m going to ask each hospital to search their records for fish hook and golf ball injuries. They have to be the weirdest injuries.
Think about it: you’re out having fun, and suddenly you’re in the back of an ambulance, down an ear and some brain cells.
After Googling “golf ball injuries,” I found this. Definitely click that link and check it out. Art putt-putt? Yes please. I’m such a hipster at heart … again, a post suggestion for another time.
(Although, I’m sure the hipster enthusiasts will say a real hipster can’t admit he or she is a hipster, so that doesn’t make me a real hipster … of course. Because I’m not a real hipster. And I don’t want to be. I can’t work those American Apparel clothes.)