Stuff happens

Now, perhaps this is self-absorbed myopia, but I certainly feel like I'm That Girl That All The Weird Shit Happens To. I'm the one who had a lamp fall on her head. I'm the one who had 4 car wrecks in one year. I'm the one pregnant lady who passed out cold on a friend's floor in the middle of the night and landed on her face. Today, I'm the one who had a gas-station pump fountain unleaded all over me. The idiot behind the counter was no help -- she gave me the key to the (occupied) bathroom ACROSS THE PARKING LOT, never mind that she had a sink behind her counter I could've used. I was afraid I'd gotten some in my eye, so I frantically washed my face, and don't think I got any on there, but the front of my pants were soaked. My shoes. Part of my shirt. I drove home, fighting traffic on Mopac the whole way and trying not to freak out because of the fumes and the stinging sensation on my thighs. Windows and sun roof open. Hoping nobody tossed out a lit cigarette. 15-20 looooong minutes later, I was in the shower. All I could smell was gas. Scared to death. And of course, no A/C on at my house, 2 workers and and lots of paint fumes. Once I finally calmed down, I talked to a nurse friend who reassured me that I did all I could and it's not likely that I got enough gas on me for long enough to absorb too much through my skin and hurt the baby. I suppose I'm starting to get that parental primitive "protect the baby" instinct. Then again, I suppose anybody who took a gasoline shower in the middle of a hot summer day might freak out, just a little bit. Right? It's not just me, is it? Oh yeah, it probably is. I'm That Girl. Dang.