I’m not really an anxious person.
It’s just that sometimes there are worries. They like to swim to the surface of my brain when I am trying to be busy, like Kraft macaroni in a pot of boiling water. Bloop. Bloop.
I try to push them down with my metaphorical wooden spoon, but anyone knows they just come right back up, and the longer you keep pushing them down, the slimier they get anyway.
My metaphorical noodles of worry, that is.
So, sometimes I just need to fish the little buggers out and line them up on the counter for inspection, and also list them here for you, because what else do you have to do?
My most long-suffering of blog friends know I used to worry sometimes that Carrot Top would somehow weasel his way into the capitol building in Sacramento, but now I don’t even worry about that at all, because CT is much buffer than Arnold these days, and also has a scarier face, so that has to be a good quality for wrestling the budget, and also senators. I think that Carrot Top would like to wrestle senators.
Here’s what I DO worry about, just a little bit, but not in a compulsive or neurotic way, just the normal way of forgetting a little bit to sleep at night while thinking about these things:
1. Why do all of my left shoes suddenly feel loose? What’s up with my feet? The right shoes all fit normally, but I’ve been noticing how I have to grip on super-tight with my left toes, just to keep the shoe attached. Also I have had to adopt a special shoe-retaining walk that involves dragging my left foot (which is bunched up in my shoe due to all the toe-clenching) along the ground while simultaneously sliding my foot forward IN the shoe during the forward thrust. Sometimes this results in accidental shoe launching.
I think that maybe next my left sleeves will get all loose, and that will be proof that I had a stealth-stroke and missed the memo, and now my left side is slowly atrophying.
You have to admit that’s a pretty good worry.
2. Maybe my dog will explode. Not like cartoon dogs, where someone packed all the orifices with sticks of lit dynamite and then the eyes bulge out comically, but more internally, like maybe if I sleep in on Sunday and forget to let him out for oh, say, six extra hours in the morning. And he’s polite, so no mess, but he’s cross-legged by the door, and I’m pretty sure I can see his bladder throbbing though his fur.
Also, for those of you have been sad about my dog’s sprout subsiding, thereby ending the regular updates of Sprout Watch, he now has a mysteriously bulbous right haunch. From behind he looks like he’s got a wallet in his hairy hip pocket.
The vet says an occasional bulbous haunch is nothing to worry about. Let’s see if he still says that when my dog explodes.
3. Can fungus eat your house? I’m pretty sure it can. Especially the kind that erupts from out of the ground in your yard, and is probably pushing up the foundation of your house at this very moment. It’s like an alien army of dinner rolls is invading from below. Dinner rolls with tentacles that reach deep into the ground, probably almost to the mother ship at the core of the earth.
Here is one. There are lots of them. This is not a rock. It is in my yard right now.
I worry they are sentient fungi, and if we talk too loud they will hear us and try to come inside. Or the dog will pop one with his foot and carry powdery spores back inside the house, thereby killing all of us slowly and painfully.
Maybe that’s what’s been happening. Maybe the powdery spore poisoning causes bulbous haunches and shrunken left appendages. Or, or! Maybe the dog’s haunch only LOOKS bulbous because his left side is atrophying too…
This is bad.
This has not been at all comforting. I don’t know why you told me it would be.
I’m pretty sure you said that.
Next time I’m leaving the damn noodles in the pot.