I don't know what picket fences mean to you, but they happen to be one of my psychological phobias. As a kid, I had recurring nightmares (in black and white!) featuring picket fences, and houses that (were made out of ticky-tacky and) all looked just the same. In the dream, I was always walking along, when I realized that the sidewalk was part of a gear, and that each house was a square tooth in a cog of death. It makes my insides roil, even now that I'm 25 and I know suburbia only eats you metaphorically.
The only reason I bring this up is because I'm having a bit of a meltdown, feeling really insecure and a little anxiety ridden, and Helen pointed out to me tonight that we all have our own picket fences. I'm anxious because it seems like he MUST be about to stand me up for our plans tomorrow. She wanted me to realize that IF HE DOES (and assuming it's because of nerves), I should remember that we all have our own triggers for meltdowns.
I don't know why this is even making it to the blog; this isn't my panic attack diary, by any means, but I guess I just wanted to say that if it happens, I'm choosing to be ok with that. Maybe not right away, but that's life. Now it's in print and I have to stick to that.