Worry Is Overrated – Part 3 of 4

Worry Is Overrated

 Things That Make Me Insane & Worry

• Lost Items. I am tormented by every single item I’ve lost since I was born. I had this incredibly beautiful blue costume bejeweled ring I loved to play with in 2nd grade which I probably lost in a creek. This is as close of a picture as I could find that resembled it. My only hope is that a kind drag queen found it and is putting it to good use while she lip-syncs to It’s Raining Men by The Weathergirls. I loved that ring. Hurricane and other natural disaster victims feel free to tell me to piss off. I still get mad at myself when I think about Aunt Exa’s missing dinner ring. A family heirloom, obviously not safe in my clutches. The hubcaps on my Impala in college. (If I had known fancy hubcaps were so expensive, I would have stolen them before they got stolen and pocketed the cash for beer). Countless lost singular earrings disrupting a pair. My favorite leather coat I left at a bar. My Coach purse in high school. The keys to all my luggage. My shoes the night I turned 21. That iced cooler full of imported beer Paul and I left next to our car in front of the Sig Ep house in college. My virginity…

• Timely Holiday Card Delivery. Those of you on my holiday card list know that I’m a nut about getting my holiday cards out as soon as possible after Thanksgiving. I can’t rest unless I know they’ve been mailed. I don’t care if my holiday card arrives first, though they often do. Let’s face it. I’m a nut about card delivery in general. I’m irritatingly skilled about sending birthday and other cards. It’s a joke with my friends who are both impressed and annoyed by me and my card sending ways.

• Twitter. I want to do good Twitter but its full functionality still eludes me. I try, really I do. I am a convert and believe it is the wave of the future and I better grab my surfboard. It is still a struggle. I could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids (on Twitter).

• Price Tag Stickers On House Ware Items. I hate price tags. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have to see them unless I turn an item over. I can still turn them over in my head and I know they are there. I know they are evil and they must be eradicated. NO WIRE HANGARS. (I don’t like those either). Putting me in a room with a bunch of plastic bins with paper sticky tags that come off in tiny pieces, or not at all, would be my own personal hell. I would scrape those damn tags off until my fingernails bled.