I come from a long line of high anxiety relatives, and it continually surprises me that I've yet to have a panic attack. I keep thinking one will strike while I'm driving down an unfamiliar street or getting ready to board a plane. But nope. Never anything beyond stomach butterflies.
I was standing in the checkout line at Target. Like lots of other Fridays, I had stopped off there on my way home to pick up some necessities. But as I looked down into my shopping cart, it seemed my worst-nightmare future was staring back at me. There in the red plastic basket were a bottle of $5 wine, cat food, cat litter and scrapbooking supplies.
I began to feel faint.
I tried a little deep breathing. Plenty of people shop for those exact same things. Married people. People with children. People whose boyfriends live on the same continent.
Then I went home and drank half the bottle of wine.