The fear of dropping your book into the wrong library dropbox again, having already done so once and got the help of a kind colleague in calling the library and explaining the situation to them in Chinese, then going down to the library to collect it with a print-out of my library record as proof only to realise that the print-out I grabbed before leaving office doesn’t have my name on it. Anyway, they gave me the book which I carried back with me this morning to return to the right library. Only en route I had mini panic attacks about dropping it in the wrong library box again, something that as eminently possible for me to do. Thankfully, the panic attacks worked and I dropped the book in the right dropbox.
The fear that your illness is going to last forever. Considering I used to routinely fall ill as a kid, being sick should be run-of-the-mill for me, right? But maybe since the gaps between illnesses grew larger, especially after to moving to Hong Kong, I began to entertain the possibility that it was not my fate to be confined to bed in a shuddering mess every month. And then when I am indeed in such a state, if I don’t t bounce back after a couple of days, I begin to entertain dire fantasies of being forever stuck in this condition. You know what brought this one, yeah? The tummy upset that refuses to subside. Yes, as of yesterday, I was still on a mush diet. Today, I am better but there’s no telling what the pot might bring tomorrow. In the meantime, I will speculate on whether I am going to forever going to be eating congee and what that will do to my mood.
The fear of putting on the weight that you lost (however measly such loss was, sniff!) when you were eating only congee for more than a week. Self explanatory. Also, clearly I am not as disengaged from concerns about my weight as I like to tell myself. What can I say? Thighs rubbing together is a new sensation that I do not welcome.