Self Declared Wuss

Last weekend, LaBrett and I were talking about things that we need to do. I mentioned a haunted house and the fact that I cannot handle them. We decided right there and then that all 4 of us would go to a haunted house this weekend. So, I am on the phone with her this morning and we are getting ready to purchase the VIP tickets to Hangmans. I start sweating. There is a slight bump in the road that causes me to feel relieved....they have no printer so they can't print out the tickets. Whew. But wait, we have one so they will just print the tickets over here. I start sweating again. The purchase has not been made yet because they just wanted to do that over here. No big deal, but I start sweating again at the prospect of the VIP passes getting purchased very soon. So there I was, in the living room getting my running shoes on and I decided, I just can't do it! I am a wuss and I know it. I can't handle it. Wait, let me clarify what I can't handle. I can't handle the idea of some bloody, gorey looking costumed out dude reaching out and touching me, or some leatherfaced freak chasing me through narrow halls with a chain saw. Or some room set up as a haunted nursery in a hospital with some possessed looking babies, ready to eat my brains out. I cannot handle that. Give me a scary movie any day, but something tangible that can scare the crap out of me...no thanks. I declare myself a WUSS. There, I said it. I am a wuss and I know it. No haunted house for me. You can't make me, I won't do it.