Aftur nálægt 1999, Ég var að eyða fullt af vikum í Santa Barbara, CA, að vinna fyrir viðskiptavin, leaving my poor wife back here in New Jersey alone. I dearly love my wife. I love her just as much today as I did when she foolishly married me 1,000 years or so ago. Einhvers staðar meðfram línu, I coined a phrase, "special fear", as in "Samantha has special fears." She as a special fear of "bugs", which to her are not flies or ladybugs, but rather microbes. She’s afraid of this or that virus or unusual bacteria afflicting our son, or me, but never really herself. (She is also specially afraid of vampires, miniature evil dolls (especially clowns) and submarine accidents; she has out-grown her special fear of people dressed in Santa Claus outfits).

Einn daginn, my co-worker and I decided to drive up into the nearby mountains near Ohai. At one point, we got out of the car to take in the scene. When we got back into the car, I noticed that a tick was on my shoulder. I flicked out the window and that was it.

That night, I told her about our drive and mentioned the tick. The conversation went something like this:

S: "Oooo! Those are bad. They carry diseases."

P: "Well, I flicked it out the window."

S: "They are really bad though. They can get under your skin and suck blood and transfer bugs. You better check your hair and make sure there aren’t any in your head!"

P: In a loud voice: "My God! CAN THEY TAKE OVER YOUR MIND???"

S: Literally reassuring me: "No, they’re not THAT bad."

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