Mageiricophobia

I was quite excited when I came across "mageiricophobia"—an intense fear of having to cook. Perhaps I wasn't just lazy after all—perhaps I had a phobia! It took no more than a half-minute of reasoning to shoot down that theory. My phobia, if there is one, is not fear but a series of lacks: lack of interest, of enthusiasm, of talent.

Our own feeling about thirteen, especially when joined with Friday, has added another to the long list of phobias; treiskaidekaphobia, or "fear of the number thirteen" (some of the other phobias are the well-known claustro-, acro-, and agora-, fear of being closed in, of heights, of open spaces, respectively; less known are ailurophobia, "fear of cats," iatrophobia, "fear of doctors," nucleomitotophobia,^([sic]) "fear of atomic bombs," mageiricophobia, "fear of having to cook," and, recalling FDR, phobophobia, "fear of fear itself.")

Ah, Thanksgiving Day is next week... So Mageiricophobia is ablaze again and I've determined its cause: The mental and physical strain of menu planning and the constant contact with place setting arrangements, pots and pans, slicing, dicing and stuffing turkeys, only to witness food evaporation in mere minutes with a bigger mess to clean up afterwards.