There’s mental illness, and then there’s mental illness.
Everybody agrees on things like psychosis and schizophrenia. Seeing people who aren’t really there? Mental illness. Anorexia and bulemia? Mental illness. Repeated suicide attempts? Mental illness.
And then there’s anxiety.
I’m used to being made fun of for my habit of spiraling into worst-case, DEFCON 1 scenarios. Do I like being mocked? Of course not. Maybe you think it’s funny, but I don’t. I’m experiencing real terror.
To paraphrase Viserys Targaryen, it doesn’t matter if the source of my fear is real or not. All that matters is my perception.
The human mind is a bitch. For me, every twinge of pain is cancer, every weird heart thump is a clogged artery. Eye twitch? Parkinson’s. Stuffy nose? Nose tumor (yes, I have seriously considered this).
At this very moment, I’m a spinning ball of terror because, as the furnace guy was leaving the other day, he mentioned that my hot water expansion tank is sagging and it needs to be replaced. (He mentioned this because he was also hoping to get my plumbing business. Alas, this is not to be. But seriously, thank you, D.J. from Gene’s Refrigeration. No, I’m not concerned about the dead mouse in the heating duct).
After a little Googling on the Terror Machine, I decided that my house is about to explode.
Now, the expansion tank has probably been going downhill for a year or so (like I would have any idea) and odds are, it will remain intact for another 5 days until my plumber can get here. Plus I have it propped up with a broom handle.
But my sicko brain doesn’t believe those odds. It scans some plumber’s blog on the internet and latches onto IT COULD BLOW AT ANY MOMENT because the pressure relief valve (something I didn’t know existed until two days ago) is probably clogged with sediment, and so my hot water tank is essentially a ticking time bomb.
I’m afraid to take a shower.
I did the laundry today in cold water.
Will this help? I have no fucking idea, but it makes me feel a little better. It’s sort of the “don’t wake a sleeping bear” theory of hot water tank maintenance.
The problem with owning a house, as with so many things in life, is that you don’t know what you don’t know.
Whether I’m in real peril or not, my weekend is ruined, and every day until it’s fixed is going to be accompanied by a low thrum of fear, like that weird humming noise that some people say they can hear and it makes them crazy so they move to Vermont to get away from it and they can’t have any electronics or cell phones. (It’s called an EMF-free zone, in case you’re thinking I made this up.)
Just like last weekend was ruined because I thought I was going to be arrested by the garbage police.
Now, even I can sometimes laugh at my insanity.
Here’s the thing—as a legal secretary, I know that people have been arrested for much dumber things than putting their trash into a private garbage receptacle at the car wash.
The problem started when a siren went off as I opened the lid to heave in my trash (which, BTW, I’ve done approximately 100 times before, but that was before the place was sold to a new owner). At first, I looked towards the street like, “Ooo, where’s the fire?”
And then I realized the sound was small, and tinny, and coming from inside the garbage bin.
“Uhh, okay,” I thought. “Somebody’s really taking their garbage seriously.”
And so I turned and nonchalantly walked back to my truck where it sat dripping in the wash bay, and I started compiling my affirmative defenses:
I had just washed my vehicle (at the outrageous price of $3.00). Surely that bin is for customers.
I didn't see the giant ‘PRIVATE’ sign plastered across the side.
Why else would a car wash need a bin that size if it wasn’t for customers??
I can’t read.
Things didn’t really take a dark turn until I got home and looked up “littering” in the Ohio Revised Code, which reads, in pertinent part:
Sec. 3767.32. (B) No person, without privilege to do so, shall knowingly deposit litter, or cause it to be deposited, in a litter receptacle located on any public property or on any private property not owned by the person unless one of the following applies:
(1) The litter was generated or located on the property on which the litter receptacle is located;
(2) The person is directed to do so by a public official as part of a litter collection drive;
(3) The person is directed to do so by a person whom the person reasonably believes to have the privilege to use the litter receptacle;
(4) The litter consists of any of the following:
(a) The contents of a litter bag or container of a type and size customarily carried and used in a motor vehicle;
(b) The contents of an ashtray of a type customarily installed or carried and used in a motor vehicle;
(c) Beverage containers and food sacks, wrappings, and containers of a type and in an amount that reasonably may be expected to be generated during routine commuting or business or recreational travel by a motor vehicle;
(d) Beverage containers, food sacks, wrappings, containers, and other materials of a type and in an amount that reasonably may be expected to be generated during a routine day by a person and deposited in a litter receptacle by a casual passerby.
This is a bizarrely specific law, and my gray Hefty bag did not fit any of these criteria.
I had forgotten to put my gray Hefty bag in the trashcan at work that morning, and so, seeing an opportunity, I dumped it at the car wash like a mob corpse. (No, I don’t have garbage picked up at my house. That’s for rich folks.)
In Ohio, the offense of littering is a third-degree misdemeanor punishable by up to 60 days in jail, a fine of up to $500, or both.
This just fanned the flames of my crazy.
I decided that the new owner of the car wash had set up security cameras which were somehow triggered by the toy siren. He then had the local police review the camera footage weekly or monthly, they ran the license plates of the offenders, and then summonsed them to court. (
I’m not crazy enough to think the cops would actually show up at my door. But a ticket in the mail? Abso-fucking-lutely.
I believe this is an entirely possible scenario because I live in a small town and the cops really don’t have all that much to do, and minor crimes like littering and disorderly conduct probably comprise a good chunk of the local government’s revenue.
I made myself sick for a few days over this (while my boyfriend laughed), ran my name through the court’s website repeatedly, and talked to my boss about how he’d handle it. He didn’t laugh as much, because again, we’ve seen much stranger things happen.
He had some fun arguments to make which would either land me in jail or get my charge reduced to disorderly conduct. I can handle a disorderly conduct (M-4). I’m disorderly pretty much every day of my life.
But I still haven't gotten a ticket (yet), so I probably won’t get to stand there in front of a bunch of people I know (including the judge and probably half of the other defendants) and say, “Your Honor, I wouldn’t have committed this heinous crime had I but known it’s an M-3 and was going to cost me $500. I swear to god, it will never happen again.”
At least, not at that car wash.
Still Crazy After All These Years
Regarding the dreaded expansion tank - our home was built in 2005, and we didn't have an expansion tank. It wasn't required. When the water heater died, it had been added as a mandate from the city, which meant an additional $125 in parts and permits. Sagging should be of no consequence unless it crimps the pipe. As for the dumpster - as a former retail store owner who paid $$$ monthly for trash removal, it would really piss me off to come to work, find it full with somebody's old tires or whatever. Eventually we had to get one with a lock on it. That said, we were never moved to put an alarm on it or a video camera. Very early in my life I worried about everything. One day I realized the futility of that and adopted this: https://www.studentnewsdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/alfred-e-neuman.jpg. If it is something you can do something about (tank + broom), do it. If you can't (dumping trash), worry won't help, so don't do it.
Ever thought of lowering your stress levels and leaving Ohio?