Take my dogs, for example. I have two miniature dachshund that I dote on. Their adoring eyes follow me everywhere I go…and I mean EVERYWHERE. Because they can’t speak, their eyes do the talking for them. They have perfected the art of silent, purposeful staring. It can be very disconcerting and has given rise to a new and rare psychological condition. It’s called Dachshundiphobia: the fear that somewhere, somehow, a dachshund is watching you.
Another trigger for paranoia is any public space containing coughing and sneezing people. The worst is public transport. I’ll inevitably end up sitting in front of a sneezer. There’s no way I can explain the feeling of dread that surges through my body, whenever someone sneezes into the back of my head. The sneeze usually generates a gust of air so forceful that it blows my hair forward. At moments like these, I’d rather throw myself from the moving bus/ train/ taxi, than risk catching some new strain of Mad Swine Bird Flu.
I can only point the finger at the media for making me so fearful of other people, even the kindliest and cutest of humans. A child can be the picture of innocent beauty one moment. Add a trail of snot on their upper lip and they are transformed into a monster. For months we’ve been held in the grip of what can only be described as mass hysteria over something called the H1N1 virus. What the media forgets to tell us is that flu kills between a quarter and half a million people every year. So far, the H1N1 virus has managed to kill just over 700 people. Yup, bad news and fear sells and we are the suckers who fall for it over and over again.
Some causes for paranoia are far more enigmatic, bordering on the paranormal. Take for example the age-old question of “Where do missing socks go?” I can understand if socks go missing in public laundries, but how can it happen in my own home? Just a few days ago, I loaded clothes into my washing machine. I counted the socks as they went in: there were 4. I counted them as they came out: there were 3. What’s up with that? Is there a sock monster in my machine?
Another thing that bothers me and causes some paranoia is the colour of navel fluff. Fortunately, I have a hairless bellybutton, so I don’t gather fluff. My husband is less fortunate in that department. I do regular navel checks (as one does) and can state with certainty that all navel fluff is blue. Other amateur husband de-fluffers have confirmed my findings. My husband mostly wears khaki, beige and green clothes (some kind of camouflage fantasy stemming from his childhood). So, why is his naval fluff blue?
Another paranormal mystery is to be discovered when we bow at the porcelain altar - i.e. when we throw up. It has come to my attention that my vomitus ALWAYS contains chopped carrots, even if I haven’t eaten carrots in months. I know that the human body has been explored and explained in detail. But is it possible that scientists have all failed to identify the chopped carrot pouch in the digestive tract? I think further research should be done into this little matter.
I would like to write more on this subject, but I’m currently finding myself frozen with fear. An eerie sense of foreboding is causing my typing fingers to seize up. Could it be that somewhere, somehow, a dachshund is watching me?
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