I don’t normally don t reveal
such personal information, but I must share with you my recent diagnosis of a
peculiar ailment. It is so rare that it
has only been verified in people from Baltimore. More specifically, only people who live in my
condo.
According to Gray’s Anatomy (the
medical book, not the television show) this is my condition:
“Looseous Greymatterous:”
the anxiety-driven fear of the inability to get home because of falling
snow. This ailment generally manifests
itself in strained neck muscles due to the patient’s constant turns to
the window to see if a snowflake has fallen, blistered fingers from
checking the internet for weather updates, and the inability to concentrate
on anything but the following:
“Do I have enough books to read
in case of a blizzard?”
“Do I have enough gas to get me
all the way home?”
“OMG, DO I HAVE ENOUGH DORITOS IN
THE HOUSE?????”
I believe this ailment could have
its origins in the Big Blizzard of 1977.
I was in college but stuck at home for one week with only the following
reading materials: Text books from “Religions Throughout the World” and
“Philosophy 204,”plus a whole bunch of “Cosmo” magazines.
I read and reread those books out of sheer boredom. I swear, on my deathbed, its going to be a
toss-up as to whether I request Last Rites from a priest, chanting from a
Buddhist monk, or a tube of Posey Rosey lipstick and to die in the arms of a
unmarried male doctor.
Also, during that memorable week,
my sister ate the ENTIRE bag of Doritos one night while watching some stupid
horror movie marathon. I remember
standing on the front lawn, my fist raised to the heavens, and swearing aloud,
“As God is my witness, I will never be in this position again. I don’t care if I have to lie, cheat, steal
or beg, as God is my witness, I will never be bored or saltless again!”
Okay, maybe that last part was
more or less a dream, but in my heart the emotions were there.
The people I work with know that
the first snowflake triggers this condition, so they stand clear of the
door. I once left the office so quickly
after spotting flurries that I left skidmarks on one of Dr. Lifesaver’s lab
coats. To this day, I am afraid to ask
him if he was wearing it at the time.
Maybe I have been selfish in
keeping this knowledge to myself.
Perhaps I should tell the world about this little-known disease. Maybe
we can all work together to find a cure. Hey, I know…let’s do a telethon! I’ll
be there as the living face of this dreaded disease.
Unless, of course, it snows that night. Then I’ll be home, watching it on TV with an
open bag of Doritos.
