I got the worry gene from both sides of my family–in a big way–and I’ve passed it on to at least my oldest daughter. She worries, I worry about her worrying, I worry about the things I worry about, and there’s just a lot of worry all around. I’m in charge of my nephew’s fiance’s bridal shower this Saturday, and I want it to be lovely for her, and I want to do a good job, and so I worry. I have a thing tomorrow for my kids that I’d rather not go to because it’s hot and in an annoying place to get to, and I worry. I worry about ALL THE THINGS.
Whew. It actually helped to say that. In the meantime, I still need to practice my hymns and shower and get to bed at a not-terrible time, and so I’m signing off for the night, before I start worrying about that as well. Sleep well, world!