Exit Stage Left

In addition to the high likelihood that I will feel guilt at some point during any given day, I also suffer from a nervous personality. I get nervous...a lot. Aside from it being annoyed and annoying because I consciously *know* that there's nothing to be worried about, it physically can take its toll. I can make myself sick over it. I've had pretty serious stomach problems at multiple points in my life and the adrenaline rush is enough to make my feet shake (yes, my feet shake more than my hands, even) so much I wonder sometimes if my left foot can stay on the clutch when I'm driving. I would say that this kind of nervousness happens at least once a week. Sad.

Yesterday I made arrangements with a buyer to sell the Xbox. She seemed to be very nice, but it's just e-mail so you never really know. I received several fraudulent e-mails from people who wanted to pay me more than what I was asking in order to send payment via Moneygram or wire transfer. Luckily for naive me, Craigslist warns you of the latest scams so I knew to just say "no" and go about my day. Anyhow. The buyer asked if I'd be willing to drive South to meet her. No problem, even though the Tech Center area causes me to be directionally challenged (it's worse than Aurora--yeah, Mary, worse!).

As the day wore on and the time to meet "the buyer" (her name is Laura) grew closer and closer and I began to get nervous, for no apparent reason, of course. My vivid imagination went wild. I had a vision of her coming to meet me and having less money than what we agreed to, but me not figuring it out until she was long gone. Or, even more imaginative, her meeting me, giving me the money and then having her boyfriend mug me on my way to the car. In short, I freaked out. I decided I would feel better if I could find someone to go with me. Of course, by the time my mind had made up all these stories and I had decided that there was no way I was going to walk away from this business exchange unscathed, it was late enough that finding someone to accompany me on a moments notice would be difficult, if not impossible. After a few idle phone calls I begged a co-worker to go with me. He agreed, but not without a fair amount of ridicule. As we were walking out of the building to my car, chatting about this very subject, my nervous condition, the mockery got out of control. I realized I was over-reacting (imagine if you will) and decided to go it alone.

Once I reached the point where the rendezvous was to take place I realized that I was in maybe the most suburban part of town, but that didn't tame the nerves. There was a liquor store next to the Starbucks where we'd agreed to meet. I thought about going in and grabbing a quick gulp to calm my nerves (I keep talking about alcohol on here--I swear I'm not a drunk), but decided against it. I also decided against getting a cup of coffee, thinking that would only serve to upset my stomach and make me more jittery than I already was. Instead I found a parking spot that would allow me to get a clear view of the entrance and waited.

When I saw her, I knew it was her. I grabbed the bag and headed in to make the exchange. She couldn't have been more normal, or nice. She said she was relieved that I seemed normal too because she'd had some bad experiences with CL in the past. She thanked me for coming down to meet her, looked at the box and the intact seal, handed me an envelope with four crisp $100 bills and off we went..in opposite directions. The whole thing lasted maybe two minutes--tops. No scary ghetto freaks, no threatening boyfriend, exact amount in cash and it was done. When I got back into my car the nerves began to settle down and my foot was shaking so badly that I wondered how I'd ever make it home. Worse than that was feeling like an absolute ass for having been so worried about it to begin with.

The $400 is tucked away safely, waiting for my upcoming trip to New York, but now I'm obsessing over the bills themselves, hoping they're not counterfeit and that when I go to spend them they'll spend. I can just see myself breaking into a sweat at a Broadway theatre box office, handing the bill to the cranky guy behind the glass window and the crying because they won't take my cash--now that'd be a sight to see.