When I was younger I would have recurring nightmares centered around the musical "Godspell". It was a combination of all my fears- clowns, hippies, and organized religion- molded into one psychadelic free-for-all.
Now my neurotic panic is centered around paper money. Not that its value is decreasing, but that every dollar bill has passed through at least one working girl's rhinestoned g-string.
"I found that I had become so spinsterish that I was made neurotic not only by my life of domesticity but by the slightest derangement of my room. I would burst into a fit of weeping if the kettle was not facing due east."