There are things about myself which I hate (this is my attempt at not ending a sentence with a preposition.)

There are things I hate about myself…(I don’t like that either)

I hate some things.  (how can I write that without sounding self centered. Which I totally am, read the title of this blog to see that)


I need a refill on the coffee cup (looks around, sees no one to do it ok FINE I’LL DO IT MYSELF)
ok there, refilled. I love a good cup of coffee (or 3) in the morning. It’s even cheerful with this cup Will gave me for my birthday (insert picture here) (ok then don’t…it’s tall and rosy pink with white spots and holds about 16 oz)

I have decided that my biggest problem is that I am not happy unless I am worried about something.  If I am not worried, my mind will search around like the Eye of Sauron until it finds something nasty to focus on, latch on and worry it to pieces (or a satisfactory resolution, or until something Bigger To Worry About comes along).

Worry wart etsy.com

This morning, I woke up feeling…worried. About what? At the time I did not know.  Everything is going well:

  • Have you noticed the increase use of bullet points? I actually just discovered them and I like them.
  • Terry’s work is going pretty well. His hours are not as brutal, and he has a weekend now and then, and is able to do some woodworking.
  • All 4 of the boys seem to be in a good place. They’re healthy, getting various sorts of educations, and keeping up with their laundry.
  • I have plenty of fun stuff to do to balance the housework, which also isn’t that bad but I’m not exactly…well, most of my friends (by most, I mean ALL) are better at keeping clean than I am. I just don’t really care that much and would rather be sewing than dusting. Or mopping the floors. The kitchen is clean tho. And the dining room. And it’s not like a Hoarder lives here, the house is tidy, just not CLEAN. There’s a difference, you know.
  • Money is ok, we have the bills covered and a little left over for an occasional weekend away or eating out once in a while.  I am not interested in a $10,000 trip of 2 weeks in Hawaii,  and we don’t have time for a trip to The Grand Canyon or whatever…the boys’ school tuitions are covered, no worries there.

So I don’t honestly HAVE ANYTHING to worry about! except…

the cat is acting funny, like she doesn’t feel good. OH NO SHE’S GOT FELINE PANLEUKOPENIA! WORMS! FELINE DISTEMPER! SHE’S DYING!


Well no…Terry said “she was probably out rambling all night and is tired.” Or maybe she’s got a cold. Cats get colds, you know.  Maybe she got in a fight (there’s no tufts of fur missing, and I poked around on her and she doesn’t seem to be bruised and in pain), she’s just more lethargic than usual.  Except for her tail. Her tail is like my left foot, always moving.

But that’s what I have to worry about right now.  So I am. This stupid mind has glommed onto that stupid cat (not so stupid a reason to worry, really, I’ve spent $1700 on her what with the broken pelvis and surgery and such… she’d damn well BETTER not get sick and die!) Plus, she’s a really SWEET cat who loves laps and is (usually) very playful and smacks the dog upside the head and such but right now she’s just sitting there with her eyes closed and if that damn cat DIES on me I will KILL her. Or something. No not really, I just hope she feels better. If she is still puny tomorrow I will call the vet.

But that is something I hate, the way my brain has to have something to worry about. Since we moved here 7 years ago I have scaled back tremendously on the stuff I could possibly worry about. Social interactions are limited, and I am cautious about getting out there.  I don’t make the sort of obligations that are difficult or painful to fulfill (like hosting a tea or a shower, tho I will agree to make a tray of appetizers for someone else who is hosting), I limit the number and type of people I associate with, having learned that it is far easier to manage one or two friends than to try and have 20.  I also am choosier about the people I try to be friends with. I have little patience with whiners or the types of folks who think it’s important that your house is clean.  consequently, I don’t worry about interaction with others very much. It used to be an enormous part of the energy I spent- worrying about what this person thought or how my house looked to that person, and now…nope. I don’t worry about it much at all.

Now I worry about the damn cat.  Which I suppose in the grand scheme of things, compared to the worries of 22 years ago,when David was constantly sick as an infant, or 10 years ago, when Will was being bullied in school, or 6 years ago, when Terry was working 14 hour days/7 days a week…it’s not much to worry about, and here I am worrying about THAT as well.

This is when my Reformed Calvinist Preacher’s Wife fusses at me, for not trusting that God has it all worked out since the beginning of time and in the grand scheme of things all of this is something meant to happen and when am I going to realize that God has His hand on the master control knob of the universe and my life is just a thin thread in the tapestry of Eternity and I can’t possibly see The Whole Picture to Let Go and Let God…or something.




About rootietoot

I do what I can.
This entry was posted in *whinge*, Dewicate feewings, family, God Stuff, Sometimes she thinks too much and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Worrywart

  1. Elizabeth says:

    I think you should aim for Cheeky bunny I did consider Jolly or Sunny but I think Cheeky might just do the trip to conquer the worries.

  2. jerseechik says:

    “Eye of Sauron”… snicker. So, what’s the difference between staying alert and being worried? ‘Cause managers (including manager of the household) are supposed to keep an eye on things- even if it’s the eye of Sauron!

    • rootietoot says:

      Worrying is…being pretty sure it’s all going to go horribly wrong, paranoia even. Being alert is simply being aware of what’s happening, and being prepared in case it all goes horribly wrong. without the paranoia.
      It’s like this: When Will was 4, he fell out of a swing and broke his collarbone. If I were a worrier (which I wasn’t, back then), I never would have let him get in the swing. Since I was alert, I knew (thank you EMT training), I knew what could happen, and was prepared…since he had 2 younger brothers, I was able to, in 5 minutes, prepare peanut butter sandwiches and juice, call Terry to meet us at the ER and get them all in the car. He was in the ER within 12 minutes of falling out of the swing.

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