Sometimes I wonder whether or not I’m concerned about the right things. I don’t necessarily worry about it, but I wonder. What if I’m investing most of my emotional stores in issues that lack the prominence others consider important? Somewhere within every person’s psyche is there a bin individually designed, sized and erected to house one’s anticipated worries? Is this worry bin capable of accommodating extra worries at unforeseen times? Does it have a lid to keep the worries from spilling over into the other bins designated for love, hate, fear, sadness or guilt? As the worries pile up on top of the other worries, do those trapped in the lowest reaches of the bin eventually start to break down due to pressure and weight of the others, into a worry-mulch? Is there a pressure control valve on the worry bin that keeps the lid from blowing off and contaminating the other bins? And if the worry pressure relief valve does open due to abnormally high pressure, where are the surfeit worries sent? Are they merely re-cycled like the great zero discharge treatment plants, and re-introduced into the worry bin when conditions permit, like when your kid finally graduates from college after only eight years and you no longer have to worry about whether or not you’ll be able to pay the tuition next semester? Are the worries in any manner quantified as to intensity and/or importance and assigned a level in the worry bin? Does the worry bin need periodic maintenance to insure its structural integrity and if it does, what does one fix it with? Is there an affordable service that can be contracted to dump one’s worry bin, just in case he decides to hell with it, I’m starting over?
So much worry, so little time…
14 comments:
with two graduated from college and one still in..I wonder when the $ stops flowing? Mulch is good. Transferring money--bad.
for a minute there i thought you were doing a commercial for suncom wireless...
i've tested this post's components and determined that the product quality is highly efficient, effective, reliabile, safe, highly imaginative, unique and off the chain...
peace!
this calls to mind that video you sent me about something about men and womens brains and how they differ... i no longer have the link... but i think you need to find your worry box... pile all this stuff in there... and set it to the side....
XXOO
Don't know where they go. I wouldn't worry on it too much, though.
This was clever. I loved the worry mulch part.
short answer? Nope. (trying minimalism.)
Longer answer: if you send me the specs, AND the drawings AND the number of your Patents, I'll give you a detailed response against a reasonable hourly rate (negotiable).
Well, us women have worrying down to a science. You just worry about everything all the time until it either goes away or you've replaced it with something else to worry about. And, if you stop worrying you will worry that something is wrong with you for not being worried.
My advice? Don't worry...be happy!
I keep mine in a mayo jar on the back porch.
Are rhetorical questions always a stylistic error? Do you worry that you worry too much? I worry that I don't worry enough, being a lazy bum an' all.
I have a worry 'dumpster'..
Scot-- Amen, brother... how well I know this story. I've had as many as 3 in college at the same time, with the last one taking pity on his old man and deciding to go it on his own. Gawd, I love that boy...
fork-- Thanks, man... I'm always happy to get the approval of the EPA... heehee. I'm not as hep as some, but I looked it up and "off the chain" is actually a compliment. Thanks...
Paisley-- That's the nicest thing about having a worry bin, actually... I can taxonomically separate everything and assign it a priority level. Comes in handy...
Amuirin-- Consider yourself lucky that you don't worry about it... you folks tend to live longer.
Lee-- I think you've got the minimalist posture down pat. Be careful, though... we wouldn't want you to reduce everything to monosyllabic rhetoric. As for the longer response, we'll do a meeting... my people will contact your people and set something up. Ha!
Shirley-- No doubt about it... you seem to have it all figured out. I'm making a list of mine to send you... I have no doubt you'll have them all solved post haste.
Jo-- I didn't know you were a member of the Funk & Wagnalls family... say hi to Ed for me.
Gingatao-- Actually, your worry about my worry doesn't worry me in the least. The only thing you need worry about is whether you have the financial portfolio to support your losses when we settle up at the Nineteenth Hole...
Tina-- Yea, there's a good bit of that going around... but the trick is to keep the pick-up service active. The more often you have it emptied, the better. Nasty stuff, worry...
Well, at the moment I'm worried about this blast out of the sand onto the seventeenth green. I've gotta get it over the lip but there's only ten feet of grass before the cup and its downhill, the chances of pulling it up before the other edge of the green are minute but if underplay it it'll bury itself under the lip of the bunker. There is a tree right behind me though and I am thinking if I play it that way and bounce of the tree back over my head onto the green...
Gingatao-- Yea, no doubt about it... you could play it that way. I warned you against trying to play a fade with a hook wind prevailing, especially with that sucker pin calling out, "Over here, big fella, you can do it... hit it right at me". The question, at this point, becomes, 'How high up on the tree do I play it so I can get the proper reflex angle to make the ball hit soft on the slope, and what are my chances of hitting a jutting piece of bark and deflecting the shot into the water?' But, think quickly, I see the course marshall starting to hover because there are two foursomes waiting to hit their shots behind us. Tick tock, my friend... tick tock.
*snork*
There are days my Bin overfloweth. Here's hoping yours stays half-empty.
Lori-- It can build up, can't it? I recommend you get a firm hold on whatever is worrying you, metaphorically choke the living daylights out of it, and move on. Even worry has a point where it has to gasp for air...
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