Anyone smell a little....danger?

I don't think I'm alone in this. However, like all things I believe that my hyper-drive of an imagination leads to an over exaggeration of the "danger" syndrome. Sometimes, I psych myself out. There is no danger, but I feel danger. My ninja senses tingle and I am prepared to defend my temple of a body and my casa de royale. Don't mess with me evil-doers, in these heightened moments, I am Jack Bower with a dash of 007 and the undeniable indestructibility of Elastigirl. Criminals, ye be warned!

I came home late from a friends house tonight and had to stop for gas in uncharted territory. I was so sluethy! I picked a friendly sounding exit. Chose a central gas pump. Kept my phone on me, never had my back to anyone. Made eye contact with the closest fellow pumpers. Started memorizing license plates in the parking lot. Oh yeah buddy, I was eye-witnesstastic! Then click! My tank was full and I was off. Nobody messed with me, they could see I meant serious business. Serious business indeed.

When I got home I googled crime stats in that neighborhood and found that compared to my neighborhood I was practically pumping gas with Mr. Rogers and Mother Teresa. You think they'd have smiled more.