We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

Ever since I was a very small child in mere inches of bath water, I would become stridently afraid any time the water became clouded with soap. The moment I could no longer see the bottom of the tub, it was as if I was in the sea which was hundreds, thousands of feet deep, and there was always some creature with a large toothy mouth, gaping wide open, surging up to devour me. As a two or three year old, I would suddenly cry, panic, need the F out of there. It was before I had seen images of sharks, I would imagine. Later, when I was six or so, I found a picture of a shark in a book about aquatic life, and it would also terrify me. I knew to skip the page.

Well, at my age now, I at least don’t immediately get out of the bathtub in a panic, but still, every time the water gets too sudsy, I remember that vision I would have as a child. I might cut the bath short on some days, I will confess.