So, apparently, Spain now has venomous sea slugs washing up on its shores. Yup, you read that right. Venomous. Sea. Slugs. As if jellyfish and sharks weren’t already enough for my imagination to run wild with when I dip a toe in the ocean. Now I’ve got to contend with the idea that even a slug has decided to go hardcore Marvel villain.

Listen, I already get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about slugs in my garden, sliming their way around like tiny ectoplasmic blobs. Now add “venomous” to that and suddenly we’re in radioactive, end-of-days territory. What’s next, scorpions learning to swim laps off the coast of Ibiza? A glow-in-the-dark armadillo hitching a ride on a cruise ship?

Of course, the experts say I’m unlikely to ever meet one of these Spanish sea slugs in person. That’s comforting for about two seconds until my brain starts imagining the slugs migrating across oceans via underground piping systems. Why not? Cockroaches already survive nuclear blasts, so don’t tell me a venomous slug can’t hitch a ride through some rusty transatlantic drain pipe and emerge in a New York bodega next to the Arizona iced tea display.

This is the kind of weird, late-night brain tangent that happens when you’re both a psychologist and an over-thinker. The metaphorical possibilities are endless: life is full of harmless-looking things that can be venomous if you’re not paying attention. That awkward work email. That “just one more bite” bread pudding. That one tiny comment at the holiday dinner table that derails the night. Venom everywhere.

So yes, Spain, thank you for adding venomous sea slugs to my running list of Things I Shouldn’t Have to Worry About But Do Anyway. Will I ever meet one? Probably not. Will my brain occasionally imagine them slithering into my bathtub uninvited? Absolutely.

In the meantime, I’ll keep jumping into puddles of joy and avoiding puddles of slime. And if I ever do see a sea slug, I’m walking away faster than you can say, “radioactive calamari.”