My Anxiety Bucket Runneth Over

I have this theory that we all have what I call an "anxiety bucket." Mine is almost always about three-fourths full. And when bad stuff happens in my life, it gets even more full. And when something really horrible happens, it actually overflows, and I go a little crazy. Which is what happened when I found out my wife was having an affair with this guy from her tennis club. I used to drive myself crazy imaging the two of them together.

In my mind, this asshole had thick, jet-black hair that started just above his eyebrows, and ended in one of those ponytails guys have that make you want to smack 'em. Really handsome, of course, with tanned, chiseled features. The cleft in his chin was so pronounced he could keep a spare tennis ball in there. He looked tough, too. The head of his penis actually had a tattoo of a Harley on it.

Trust me, there is no adversary more intimidating than one you've never seen.