Detailed Fictions

So. The vast majority of the time my tendency to (super low level) anxiety expresses itself in a compulsion to nudge the door to make sure it's locked, or repeatedly check that the paddock gate is closed, or go back into the kitchen to see that the all the burners are off, or count cats to see they're all inside & accounted for before I go out.

Every now & again, though, I get an idea that I am fully aware is false while simultaneously being convinced of it. It's usually something pretty mundane, something along the lines of "I left the car windows rolled down in the parking lot all weekend" or "I left the door to the attic open". But then there are the bizarrely specific ones. Yesterday for a good hour or so I was sure that I had forgotten to make this month's car payment although I knew I had.

Far & away the strangest one was the time I knew that I had & had not not left a five-gallon bucket of frozen shrimp sitting out. Of course we actually owned no shrimp at all at the time. Unsurprisingly I've never bought that much shrimp at once in my life, never mind that the state shrimp fishery had been closed for a year or something at that point.

No, I have no point.