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Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Making monsters out of nothing

I usually pride myself on being pretty brave. I don't mind trying new food, or going new places. I like confrontation (probably more than I should) and don't get intimidated by challenges. (OK, yeah, the bar made me miserable, and I worried about it, but at no point was I actually scared. I guess we'll see if that changes if it turns out I failed and have to start studying again.)

My only real fear is heights, and even that kicks in at odd times. Sometimes I'm just fine at the rock climbing gym or on a roller coaster or in an airplane -- and sometimes I'm standing at the top of Wally's Wiggles in Zions, looking out over the canyon, and suddenly my knees turn to Jello and I know that there's ABSO-FREAKING-LUTELY no way I am finishing the Angels Landing hike, and I have to turn around and face the opposite direction until I calm down. (It didn't help any that on the way down, my friend Sarah ran into a friend who informed us that two people died hiking Angels Landing last week. Yeah -- two people.) (Oh, and how dorky is it that the first thing Chris, Ryan and I did upon contemplating falling down the face of the mountain and into the Virgin River below was debate whether shouting out your will at the top of your lungs would do your heirs any good in probate? Reeeeeally dorky.)

But sometimes I get things into my head, and I just don't want to do them.

Like call my landlady.

So, I moved out of my apartment at the end of May, and my landlady still hasn't sent back my deposit or any letter explaining why she didn't refund the money. And I don't know what it was, other than the fact that I always kind of thought she didn't like me, but I DID NOT want to call her about it. It got to the point where I told myself, Wait until after the bar. Worry about it then. And then after the bar, Well, after you finish cleaning the kitchen. That's a big enough project for now or After I get home from Southern Utah. I can't call while I'm on vacation, right?

But finally I bit the bullet yesterday and called. It went to voicemail, and I rambled on about how I was sure it was just an oversight, but could she please send the deposit or a letter, please? (Yeah. "Please" was said more than once.)

She called me back just now, and it was no big deal. I gave her the new address; she said she would look up the receipt from the maid cleaning, and send me a check for the rest.

The end.

I still can't figure out why I was dreading that phone call so much, but I hope the next time I freak out over nothing, I try to remember most people are reasonable, and Chris, Ryan and Sarah made it back from the top of Angels Landing just fine.

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