Sharing the Weirdness - A Moan

I'm not really a worrier and I don't stress too much about things in life, after all, what does worrying or stressing actually achieve? Absolutely nothing and in fact, probably makes the situation ten times worse. But I'm not immune to the odd worry and pet hate that causes me stress.

During the months of August - October I stress about the monstrous spiders I know are going to enter my home from time to time, taking a little diversion on their way to goodness knows where and then have to be assisted back out into their natural habitat.

I worry about forgetting to put the correct wheelie bin out each Sunday evening and have been known to wake up very early and lie there trying to remember if The Hubster fulfilled that duty. This anxiety is particularly heightened around bank holidays when we have to remember which day they're being emptied due to the extra day off, and is at it's absolute apex at Christmas time when the service is so disrupted I struggle to cope and the recycling bin is bursting at the seams.

I loathe having to stop to refuel my car and will think about it for days - how many miles have I got left, when will it be busy, what journeys am I making and which is the best station to pull into with easy access back onto the road? At this point we don't own an electric car so that's not a consideration but I know the re-charging problem is lurking in my future to really challenge me.

I also loath buying feminine hygiene products. They're so expensive and are obviously a one use only thing. I try to stretch out the purchase as long as possible which, at my stage of life is a dangerous little game, a bit like Russian Roulette.

But my absolute pet hate and something which will lead to a stress situation if it becomes a real threat, is rain. Not the winter rain which we have in abundance in the UK. Not the rain which is predicted by the weather people and is a welcome occurrence in the hot months of summer (well....it is sometimes hot in the UK). It's the other sort of rain.

But first let me clarify, we do need rain. It keeps us hydrated, feeds us, keeps us clean, provides a huge amount of fun and entertainment and allows our gardens to flourish and bloom into little havens during the spring and summer. I love spending time in my tiny greenhouse in late winter / early spring planting seeds, watering them, tending the seedlings, being amazed at the green haze that suddenly appears and being thrilled as the haze turns into individual shoots that slowly mature until you can repot them and eventually plant out in your borders, baskets and pots and feel very smug and WI*.

Rain also allows us to keep our clothes clean and fresh. I have a drier, but obviously during the summer months, hanging your clothes outside to dry is far more economical, eco-friendly and gives me more fuzzy WI feelings of achievement. I always step back when I've hung everything out to observe the line swinging in the breeze and walk away satisfied that in a few hours time, I can get it all in again, very little ironing will be needed, they will smell sweet and everyone will go off to work and play clean and smart again.

So what other rain am I talking about? The type that arrives un-heralded by the forecasters or my weather app when my said clean and probably almost dry washing, is on the line. If I'm at home it's not so much of an issue but it will turn into a military procedure. I will be heard hollering 'it's raining' and I will expect everyone in the house, without exception, to down-tools and come rushing out to help with the rescue mission. But if I'm at work, my anxiety will peak as I watch the sky cloud and turn grey. I will be seen checking my weather app every few minutes as I look helplessly out of the window as those first drops of water explode on the window. I feel my heart sink as I think helplessly of my washing slowly being tainted by the rain falling some seven miles away. I pray it's not raining at home, after all, it doesn't always fall everywhere does it? But there's nothing I can do. No-one is home for me to call and I resign myself to the inevitable.

I try to reason with myself (and others try to reason with me) that it's only rain and it's not going to hurt, but I can't help it and I know I'm going to go home, take it all in and rinse it again. Maybe it's a result of growing up in the late 70's/ early 80's when there was a lot of talk of 'acid rain', I feel that my washing has been contaminated and no longer clean.

I know there are far greater things to worry about, much more important events in life that warrant my time, but it's one of my little idiosyncrasies and I'm sure I'm not alone.

So who else out there feels my pain on this subject? Or how many of you are reading this thinking, 'sort it out woman!'

Am I weird? Maybe not! Take a look at the cover for this post !

I'd welcome your thoughts and if you have some unusual fears or dislikes, let me know.

Share the weirdness!

*Women's Institute