I worry. Non-stop. I’ve elevated it to an art form. Some people dabble in the odd moment of uncertainty or need to reflect on a particular issue, but I have mastered this subject into a full-fledged degree. You see, my thinking is that if I worry about something enough than I have covered all my bases and the thing I initially started worrying about never comes to fruition. It’s the moment I let go and exhale that all hell breaks loose.
And I worry about the dumbest things. Will I get a good seat at the movie theatre, will I be able to get into the proper lane at the right time on my morning commute, is my house clean enough, is my cat well-adjusted, does my son have any idea how much I love him? Excessive worrying is almost like a sport or a work out for me. You would think I would be exhausted by now, but I seem to get a sick type of adrenaline from it.
Oh, sorry I started worrying that I was losing my audience for a moment there and started to drift off to sleep. I think I need some caffeine and some sugar. I hope the coffee is warm enough, I hope they didn’t run out of vanilla creamer. I hope they have the chocolate donuts with the sprinkles, what if they ran out.....
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