For about a week after I watched an episode of Dirty Jobs where Mike Rowe cleaned barnacles off a buoy I could not stop thinking about barnacles. They invaded my thoughts almost constantly while I was driving and I couldn't shake it. There were dirty puffy drifts of snow along the side of the road and it reminded me of barnacles.
I was surprised by the crusty hard and soft texture of barnacles, and so was Mike Rowe. He said they were like scrambled eggs inside. I have to try hard not to think about barnacles because I can imagine them slowly forming on the back of my arms and on the top of my scalp like some kind of extreme and hideous cradle cap. Isn't it gross? Barnacles really bother me.I guess any kind of unwanted and unchecked growth bothers me. Maybe it's an underlying fear of cancer? An obsessive compulsion for exfoliation? One of my worst nightmares was when I dreamed I grew a big fleshy dome on the top of my head and Christian freaked me out for years by reminding me of this lady I saw in the BYU Bookstore with evenly-spaced and uniformly-shaped red dots all over her neck and face. As you can imagine, watching Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is out of the question.