There is a bear in that closet.

There is too, I'm not kidding. Every single time I clean there it startles me, and I used to kinda gasp, not just jump. It's a very scary bear.
It is about the size of a cub. It's very black, very fuzzy, and it doesn't smell like a bear (and it doesn't growl). But I still jump.

There are mice in all mouse traps. Dead mice, (dead things are millions of times scarier than live ones). And I always jump, and shudder... I don't care if it's a brand new trap. There are always dead mice in mouse traps!

Caterpillars are horrid, three foot long, fuzzy, green slime filled, Frank magnets.
 And they have a great liking for my shoulders. These do in fact, make me feel somewhat hysterical.

Knifes are horrid instrument of death, causing blood, and for anyone in close proximity to me when someone is handling one foolishly, they can cause loss of hearing. I have a deep surging fear of knifes. I can name at least four people who have had me in tears because they were playing with a knife, pretending to stab themselves, someone else, or me.
  I will stick up for myself on this one, perhaps fake bears, and caterpillars, and mouse traps, can not cause death or injury. But knives can, and do, and they do accidentally at times. That fake stab at your best friend could kill him if someone bumped your elbow coming around the corner. *Steps slowly off of her soap box, she really could say more on this one.*

Drop offs that are farther down than four feet do not belong beside roads. They give me a great urge to crawl under the seat and plug my ears and squeeze my eyes tightly shut. I don't care if that is something only three year olds do. I don't care if it is completely unreasonable, and I don't even care if it doesn't change the fact that the drop off is still there. I can no longer see it, I hopefully can't hear the screams when we go over it. And the fact that I'm under the seat with out a seat belt hopefully insures a quick and painless death.

All water that is over my head has horrible man eating fish, or worse, in it.
 I immediately start feeling cold clammy things grabbing my feet and I feel myself being pulled slowly under, my head aching from lack of air. And then I envision my hair floating on top the water, marking the spot where I died. Gruesome huh? :)

And last, but not least, I'm scared of the Chicago Airport. Not in a gruesome way, not in a frantic way. But in a calmly terrified-of-getting-lost-and-missing-my-flight way. I have visions of myself standing in front of those big airport screens trying to figure out where to go while the minutes go tickity-ticking past.
 Or of myself standing in front of very tall airport people with "I'm horribly busy" looks on their faces. Trying to get them to pay attention long enough to tell me where to go. That's happened to me before. Not cool.

So though there may not be any bears or caterpillars or mouse traps or deep water, and I certainly hope, no knives. I would very much appreciate your prayers for my Chicago Airport layover!