Are you one?
I am.
I have a worry all the time.

Big ones. Little ones.

And when I don’t have a worry, I worry that I forgot what I was worrying about. I am Our Lady of Perpetual Rumination.

Before the big brother scare last week, I took my worries for granted. Pre-last week, I was waking up at night, worrying about about things like the new pope being teased by kids on the playground, on account of being named after an egg dish.
::Hey Benedict, ya got sauce on my muffin.::

Or, what the hell were all those people doing with lighters, on airplanes? Is it related to the mysteries of the first class only sector, to which I’ve never been privy?
Smooth landing encores?
Private concerts?
One-hit wonders?

Now that I’ve faced (and survived) a recent, real life/death worry, I’m concerned about the future of my every-day-fixations.

But, hells bells, I can’t worry about the loss of worry, right now. I have bigger fixations to fry.

This morning, at 4:00 a.m., I woke up recalling that I forgot to remember to worry about my son’s upcoming, high school graduation. What the fuck was I not over-thinking? ?

Isn’t he going to need an open house, or something? A shindig to which he can invite about 137 of his closest friends? ::137 is the current body count, fyi:: And it's only the busiest time of the year for me, at work. But I'm done with the whine.

And speaking of brothers, mine was home safe, yesterday, but I was not able to catch up with him (he lives a few blocks away). He's out of state, now, for a funeral. For a comrade. Thanks again for all the good thoughts. Between worrying and being recently wirelessless (my son chopped up the cable in the back yard, while doing yard work. ::So, I gave birth to an axe-cable-disabler::), my internet access has been limited, so I've not been able to personally respond to all the great comments...but I really want to.

Then The Cakers Says....

No, Gary doesn't have big eyes. He just has big eye necks.



P.S. I'm posting this real, real late, for me. I'm not going to be able to proof it, to my standards. So, please take pity, you late night, grammatically raging IMer's. You know who you are.