i hate worrying.
i'm quite terrible at it.
i've had a lot of practice, but i just can't seem to get it down.
you'd think i'd have a 6-pack with the way my stomach clings in knots.
you'd think i'd lose weight from the sweating i do.
but no.
all i have to show for it is a few more wrinkles and some crazy dreams.
(speaking of crazy dreams, i'm so mad at myself because two nights ago i had the most brilliant dream and it was a fantastic story and i woke up thinking, i have got to write this idea down! it would make a great movie! great plot! but i couldn't be bothered to open my eyes, grab a pen and find some paper to write it down. nah, i'll remember, i thought to myself. yah right. sadly, i don't remember and i'm not happy about that. yes i now have paper and pen beside my bedside. but last night's crazy dream was interrupted by gaffer waking me, to tell me there was an alien in his room with two mouths, two eyes and a lot of tentacles and he went, 'eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee' etc. )
and i'm embarassed to admit what i'm worried about because it's ridiculous and so many people should have worries as i.
i'm worried about our trip to the mayan riviera. i'm worried i'll vomit all over the plane (it's happened before), that we'll get on the wrong bus, that i don't speak enough spanish (dora only provided a tiny tutorial, you understand), that we'll get a room where maggots live in the bed, that i'll get the runs (of course it's a great way to lose 5 pounds), that rockstar hubby will be bored, that it'll rain too much, that we spent too much... yes, i'm ridiculous.
i'm worried about the gaffer at nana and papa's. not because i don't think she'll take good care of him, but that because we're taking off to LA (that'd be louisiana, not las angeles) exactly 19 days after we get back, he'll grow up in therapy because we were 'never around'.
and then there's the worry of wondering if i did the right thing? (personal issue, none of your business)
i'm ridiculous.
i admit it.
i'm going to the bathroom now.
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