One of my favorite uncles (great uncle, actually) passed away last week. He was an elderly man, but died in a crazy fall caused by getting up from his chair too fast to answer the front door. Based on his age, 84, it wasn't a complete surprise, but still shocking. He'd beat cancer and was really on his way to getting better. It was at his funeral that some cousins and I began talking about our family's tendency toward worrying. I certainly inherited this gene.
Don't get me wrong. I don't worry about little things. I'm not concerned about my car running out of gas or getting a hang nail. I worry about bigger things like my future, money issues or whether or not those I love are taking care of themselves. Maybe the reason why I'm often over prepared is because I want to keep myself from worrying more. I'm not sure if that's the case but it seems logical. My pantry is always well stocked and I probably have 15 rolls of toilet paper in the house right now. Because of that, I don't have to worry about running out.
Anyone who really knows me knows that I have this characteristic. It's just nice to have something to blame it on.
So the next time I get that huge multi-pack of paper towels and somebody (and you know who you are) asks me why I need that much, now I have the answer.
No worries, right?
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