This week is Shark Week on Discovery Channel.
Just saying that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
You see, I hate sharks. I have an unnatural, illogical fear of them. I can't quite explain where it came from, but it's consuming, paralyzing.
I'm even convinced that they are in lakes. Yes, I know they're not, but when I'm out floating in water where I can't see the bottom, a fear will grip me that Bruce (that's the shark's name in Jaws) is lurking below, ready to bite me in half.
The sucky thing is, my husband is the polar opposite on the shark thing. He LOVES them. He wants to do that cage diving thing with them in South Africa. Just thinking about that makes me vomit a bit.
He has a shark tattoo, for Pete's sake (G points at it and says 'sark'. I'm trying to teach him to say 'bad judgement').
When I was little, my Dad used to catch sharks in his fishing net in Alaska. They would die, because they have to keep moving to push the water through their gills and breathe. So imagine little terrified me, watching these 15 foot prehistoric looking creatures with terrifying teeth being pulled aboard.
You could say it scarred me, just a bit.
So, this week, I'm hoping my husband will not realize it's Shark Week. Or I will have to hide out in our room.
Because there is no way I'm watching those things in high def.