My son mentioned briefly in a blog recently that a button phobia was a silly thing. I beg to differ. Fear of buttons is a real and serious phobia. It even has a name, koumpounophobia. There are thousands of koumpounphobiacs. Steve Jobs, Apple founder, was one. On a forum (knitting) I visit daily, one woman mentioned that she had a problem with buttons and the response was amazing. Within minutes thirty or forty people had gone on detailing their problems with buttons. I have noticed that persons suffering from button phobia are generally quite intelligent. Perhaps it is this very intelligence that makes us sufferers so much more aware of the danger posed by theses seemingly harmless, supposedly inanimate objects.
I was not always onto the devious deadly button problem. As a child my mother routinely asked me to get out her button box and find a button to replace one lost from my father's shirt. It was only over time that I became aware of the problem. It started with a shudder when I saw a loose button, then a shudder and trembling if I was required to pick it up.
My husband and children learned never to ask me to sew on a loose button. If I could force myself to try, halfway through I would have to run to the bathroom and lose my lunch. Now it is painful to walk past the button aisle at Joann stores. I cannot look or I will get sick. If a button comes off my husband's shirt in the dryer I can get it out, but it involves putting on rubber gloves, a big wad of paper towels, and holding my breath until it is out, safely in the garbage can and I have made it to the bathroom where I again lose my lunch.
It is curious that I am not in any way afraid of much anything else. I pick up snakes, never met any animal that frightened me. Thunder and lightning invigorate me. Not afraid of the dark, except when entering the house after dark and in those last five steps before you make it to the door when you are most at risk of being caught by the monsters before you can get inside.
My friends waste a good deal of energy attempting to convince me that buttons are harmless. So sad that they are going through life clueless about the dangers that surround them. The buttons also apparently have the power to make my friends, otherwise nice people, into cruel hard persons. I think almost every single person who has found out about my koumpounophobia has at one time or another said, "Hey Cathy. Hold out your hand. I have something for you." Then they drop a button in my open hand and laugh hysterically when I run for the bathroom and vomit.
Perhaps I could stop the abuse with some avoidance therapy. Next time I think I won't run for the bathroom. I'll just let her rip onto their carpeting. Maybe give them a bit of emotophobia, fear of vomit. Ha!
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Christine's return home
Yesterday I posted about Christine's fuel problem . I was a bit apprehensive about how she would behave at the garage. I shouldn't have worried. The woman at the desk smiled as I came in and said cheerfully that my car had behaved perfectly, no flashing lights, no locking and unlocking, no alarms. She was all fixed and ready to go.
I was so relieved. The bill was paid, they handed over my keys and I went to my car. I stopped for a moment behind the car and looked over the rather deep scratch on her back bumper that happened as we were being pushed. "It's not so bad", I told the car. "We can get this fixed and a scratch is sure better than a $100 tow charge."
Smiling, I got in my car. I put the keys in the ignition, adjusted seat and put on my seat belt, but before I touched the key to start the car, the doors locked and unlocked loudly and the car alarm went off. Panicked I pulled the key and kept pressing the remote to turn off the alarm, but it didn't work. Finally after I was sure my ears would burst the alarm went abruptly silent.I looked over at my son, who had driven me to the garage. He rolled down his car window and smiled at me. "I don't think Christine is too pleased with your casual attitude towards her scratch. Better promise to get it fixed pronto."
I promise, Christine. We'll fix that scratch. I keep reminding myself that 42 mpg is worth it.
I hope.
I was so relieved. The bill was paid, they handed over my keys and I went to my car. I stopped for a moment behind the car and looked over the rather deep scratch on her back bumper that happened as we were being pushed. "It's not so bad", I told the car. "We can get this fixed and a scratch is sure better than a $100 tow charge."
Smiling, I got in my car. I put the keys in the ignition, adjusted seat and put on my seat belt, but before I touched the key to start the car, the doors locked and unlocked loudly and the car alarm went off. Panicked I pulled the key and kept pressing the remote to turn off the alarm, but it didn't work. Finally after I was sure my ears would burst the alarm went abruptly silent.I looked over at my son, who had driven me to the garage. He rolled down his car window and smiled at me. "I don't think Christine is too pleased with your casual attitude towards her scratch. Better promise to get it fixed pronto."
I promise, Christine. We'll fix that scratch. I keep reminding myself that 42 mpg is worth it.
I hope.
Friday, January 31, 2014
Advantages of a Haunted Car
There are some advantages to having a haunted car.
Yesterday I had a bit of trouble starting Christine as I left karate. I wasn't too concerned but on the way home as I was going up a very steep hill, the car suddenly stalled. Not panicking I pushed in the clutch and tried to restart. Electrical seemed fine but clearly no fuel was getting through. The car began to slow and I realized it was going to stop in a bad place. On coming cars would not be able to see me stalled in the road the other side of the crest of the hill but the cars coming up behind me would not be able to see over the crest to the on coming cars if they tried to pass me. I moaned out loud, "Oh no, Christine. We're going to get hit if we stop here." Ever so slightly I felt her pick up a bit of speed (going up hill!) and she continued to roll till we crested the hill and moved away from the danger spot until we were visible to both lanes of traffic. I pulled off as far as I could as we came to a stop and thanked Christine for getting us up that hill.
I called Ron and he suggested calling a tow truck but I didn't have enough money to do that, so Ron said he would come. It turns out there was a garage specializing in import cars just 200 yards from where we stopped. Ron stopped behind me and a moment later a state trooper pulled up behind us. Ron told him that he was going to try to push my car with his and the trooper put on his lights to escort us safely to the garage. Made it! The trooper laughed at us before he left saying it was a pretty good way to save a $100 tow bill.
At the garage I left Christine, but I warned the woman at the desk that Christine was a haunted car. She might lock and unlock her doors at will and there was only the one key. I also warned of moving mirrors. Without missing a beat the woman assured me that it would be no problem. They had dealt with possessed cars before. At least I know Christine is in good hands!
They have examined her and found the cause of the problem (the original 13 year old fuel filter!!! and burnt out glow plugs.) I am waiting for the call that she is fixed. I hope she will be pleased when she gets home. I'll let you know what happens.
Yesterday I had a bit of trouble starting Christine as I left karate. I wasn't too concerned but on the way home as I was going up a very steep hill, the car suddenly stalled. Not panicking I pushed in the clutch and tried to restart. Electrical seemed fine but clearly no fuel was getting through. The car began to slow and I realized it was going to stop in a bad place. On coming cars would not be able to see me stalled in the road the other side of the crest of the hill but the cars coming up behind me would not be able to see over the crest to the on coming cars if they tried to pass me. I moaned out loud, "Oh no, Christine. We're going to get hit if we stop here." Ever so slightly I felt her pick up a bit of speed (going up hill!) and she continued to roll till we crested the hill and moved away from the danger spot until we were visible to both lanes of traffic. I pulled off as far as I could as we came to a stop and thanked Christine for getting us up that hill.
I called Ron and he suggested calling a tow truck but I didn't have enough money to do that, so Ron said he would come. It turns out there was a garage specializing in import cars just 200 yards from where we stopped. Ron stopped behind me and a moment later a state trooper pulled up behind us. Ron told him that he was going to try to push my car with his and the trooper put on his lights to escort us safely to the garage. Made it! The trooper laughed at us before he left saying it was a pretty good way to save a $100 tow bill.
At the garage I left Christine, but I warned the woman at the desk that Christine was a haunted car. She might lock and unlock her doors at will and there was only the one key. I also warned of moving mirrors. Without missing a beat the woman assured me that it would be no problem. They had dealt with possessed cars before. At least I know Christine is in good hands!
They have examined her and found the cause of the problem (the original 13 year old fuel filter!!! and burnt out glow plugs.) I am waiting for the call that she is fixed. I hope she will be pleased when she gets home. I'll let you know what happens.
Friday, January 17, 2014
More on Christine
I have posted a story on my haunted car, Christine. My husband read it and just shook his head. He has even ordered a new locking system for the door. He claims this will solve the problems and I will stop saying my car is haunted. I'm not so sure.
Example. I drove Christine on Monday. All was normal, no sudden unexplained locking, no alarms going off. Came home and parked . The next morning I went out and got in the car to go to karate and............The rear view mirror was now turned toward the house and a pair of gloves were now on the passenger seat! I would have thought that my son or husband was playing a trick on me, but there were no footprints in the snow by my car except the ones I made getting out the night before.
Next. I always put my keys in an exterior pocket of my purse. I am compulsive about it because I only have one ignition key and haven't had the time or money to go to Volkswagen to get another set. I have never put the key any other place except in a pocket if I am not carrying my purse. I always put the keys in the outside pocket of my purse before I get out of the car so I won't drop them. Wednesday I went out and got in the car to go to choir practice. Opened the zippered pocket and went for my keys. They weren't there. Panicked, I dumped my purse out. Nothing. I went in the house and checked the pockets of the jacket I had worn last and through the pockets of the jeans from the day before. I went back out to the car and checked the floor and under the seats. I tried to think about the previous day. Had I done something different? I remembered that I had decided to check the mail before I went in the house. I remembered leaving my purse on the seat, with the door open so it couldn't accidentally lock me out when I went down the driveway to the mailbox. Just scooped up my purse and coffee cup when I came back and shut the door and went to the house.
Eventually I found the keys. I had again dumped my purse out and was shaking it when I noticed a tiny bulge in an interior zippered pocket. Opened that and found my keys. Ok, I can hear you thinking I must have put them in the wrong pocket, except I don't use that pocket because it is really hard to unzip. The purse lining is not attached inside well and it is really hard to unzip that pocket. I have to set the purse down and hold and pull on the fabric to get the zipper to move at all. I couldn't have done that accidentally. It takes effort to do. I never use that pocket but,.........my purse was alone in Christine when I went to the mail box.
Have to leave for karate now. I'm a little afraid of what I might find.
I am beginning to believe my own story about a "haunted " car. Yikes!
Example. I drove Christine on Monday. All was normal, no sudden unexplained locking, no alarms going off. Came home and parked . The next morning I went out and got in the car to go to karate and............The rear view mirror was now turned toward the house and a pair of gloves were now on the passenger seat! I would have thought that my son or husband was playing a trick on me, but there were no footprints in the snow by my car except the ones I made getting out the night before.
Next. I always put my keys in an exterior pocket of my purse. I am compulsive about it because I only have one ignition key and haven't had the time or money to go to Volkswagen to get another set. I have never put the key any other place except in a pocket if I am not carrying my purse. I always put the keys in the outside pocket of my purse before I get out of the car so I won't drop them. Wednesday I went out and got in the car to go to choir practice. Opened the zippered pocket and went for my keys. They weren't there. Panicked, I dumped my purse out. Nothing. I went in the house and checked the pockets of the jacket I had worn last and through the pockets of the jeans from the day before. I went back out to the car and checked the floor and under the seats. I tried to think about the previous day. Had I done something different? I remembered that I had decided to check the mail before I went in the house. I remembered leaving my purse on the seat, with the door open so it couldn't accidentally lock me out when I went down the driveway to the mailbox. Just scooped up my purse and coffee cup when I came back and shut the door and went to the house.
Eventually I found the keys. I had again dumped my purse out and was shaking it when I noticed a tiny bulge in an interior zippered pocket. Opened that and found my keys. Ok, I can hear you thinking I must have put them in the wrong pocket, except I don't use that pocket because it is really hard to unzip. The purse lining is not attached inside well and it is really hard to unzip that pocket. I have to set the purse down and hold and pull on the fabric to get the zipper to move at all. I couldn't have done that accidentally. It takes effort to do. I never use that pocket but,.........my purse was alone in Christine when I went to the mail box.
Have to leave for karate now. I'm a little afraid of what I might find.
I am beginning to believe my own story about a "haunted " car. Yikes!
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