Not a fear of phyllo pastry, but an excessive fear of leaves. I think my husband has it in severe form. It's the ailment of the month, when our maples and oaks start shedding copiously, even as they look spectacular in their orange pinks, golden yellows and brown orange tones.
" We need sponsors for the trees, to rake and bag their leaves, otherwise I'm going to look for a tree-service to come and cut them down", my husband announced in high dudgeon.
"Why, when we have been doing the leaves every year for the last ten years or more?", I ask, baffled by this sudden declaration.
"I'm just fed up with it this year!"
And so we are out bagging leaves like our lives depend upon it...or at least the trees' lives.
We have already gotten up to bag # 30, as we finish up under the yellow maple. And yet, with all this hyper-efficient timesharing arrangement that I've worked out this year with S, my husband still moans "There's still leaves under the oak. You have to get those out of the way!" Now, the oak in question is on the far end of our lot, and is scheduled for a major leaf drop only a week from now. I see no reason to expend my efforts on the grass near it just yet.
If it was me doing the complaining, one might have called it 'bitching', but since it isn't, I'll just call it 'emotional blackmail' of sorts, and complain about it in this post;)