worry wort

I think I worry too much

     My mother used to say I was a worry wort.  Or maybe it's worry wart?  I really don't know.
     I just know, I worry.
     Is the mosquito that bit me tonight going to infect me with West Nile Virus?
     Is the little bubble I found on my neck a tick?  And after I pulled it off, will smothering it in rubbing alcohol have any affect?
     How do I know if it is a tick?
     Will it storm overnight?
     Will the new plants survive?
     Why does the guy who runs the funereal home look at me and say, "No, how are you really feeling?"
     I wonder if my mind is going when I start forgetting things and repeating myself.
     I wonder.....a ha!  you thought I was going to repeat the line before this, didn't you?
     I worry that I will die without getting my book published.  I worry that if I send it to a publisher it will be rejected.  I worry that I won't be able to handle the rejection and turn to a life of drugs and alcohol.
     I worry when I walk into a store or business that my zipper is down.
     I constantly worry that if I park near a sewer or drain, I will drop my keys down the drain and be locked out of my car miles from home.  For that reason, I never park near a sewer.  Ever.
     I worry that the server dropped my food on the floor and still gave it to me.
     I worry that people who read this blog think I am wasting their time.
     I worry that I am wasting their time.
     You know, it feels good to vent.  I just hope all these worries don't give me more nightmares.  I had one last night that was so real it frightened me awake. 
     But that is another worry...I mean story.
     Good night.
     Don't worry, be happy.