About 11 years ago I was living in a small town in Utah with my new husband (10 minutes away from my parents). I was nearly 22, working a full-time job at the same place as him. Occasionally, we had different work schedules. On those days that I had to work late it was dark when I got out. I am scared of the dark. I would bravely look in the backseat of the car to make sure it was safe to get in and drive myself home. We had a little white hatchback marshmallow shaped car (a Ford Festiva- don't recall the year but probably pre-1990). We even called it, "The Marshmallow." So being a hatchback I couldn't see if some thing was hiding back there beyond the seat (especially with the emergency winter blankets and stuff).
As soon as I was in the car and started driving I'd yell out loudly, "You may as well come up here! No sense hiding back there anymore!" Then I'd continue to act like a lunatic, singing obnoxiously loud, blurting out random comments like I was having a conversation with this boogie man, until I was pretty sure no one was there.
Before you leave, and unsubscribe, know that I don't do that anymore. And not just cuz of the Zoloft. ;)