So I went to a psychiatrist and explained everything. I told him I was scared, that I kept imagining someone underneath the bed, and that it was starting to make me feel like I was losing my mind. He listened carefully, then calmly told me that if I came to see him three times a week for a year, he believed we could work through the fear together.
I asked how much each visit would cost, and he said it was $80 per session. After doing the math in my head, I told him I would sleep on it and come back if I needed to. Months passed, and one day I ran into the psychiatrist on the street. He recognized me immediately and asked why I had never returned for treatment.
I smiled and told him that a bartender had already cured me for only $10. The psychiatrist looked surprised and asked how a bartender could possibly solve a fear like that. I grinned and said, “He told me to cut the legs off the bed—now nobody can hide under there.” Sometimes the simplest solution is also the funniest one.
