Fret, fret, bother, bother, sigh, fidget.
Here I am. worrying. What? No nothing special, or unusual.
I seem to be going through a little phase of self-discovery, or navel gazing because it's less effort than digging the next-size-up car seat out from under the stairs.
In any case, I realise I spend a lot of internal dialogue time worrying about stuff - almost all of which is pointless.
Here's the current list.
I worry that my Green Cone won't, in fact, eat any of the waste I've been diligently tipping into it and I wonder what I can do to hurry it up.
I worry that someone will spot one of the errant hairs that grows out of my chin before I can tweeze it into submission.
I worry that people I meet will find me boring and compare notes about my dullness yet still talk to me out of politeness.
I worry the baby has been sick down my back and I haven't noticed and that I have a general milky puke whiff about me.
I worry that they'll cancel the school bus and therefore all my plans for the next six months will collapse.
I worry that when I meet anyone in connection with Boy One and his Asperger's, they look at me to see if I'm the parent who has it too.
I worry that I am the parent who has it too.
I worry that the wheels will totally fall off the child-care wagon on the day I have something important to do.
I worry that Boy Three will get dehydrated (none of my children ever has done so far).
I worry that the ceiling will fall down due to the leaks.
I worry that I'll forget something really significant - like a child. (Several times I have actually stopped the car to check there's someone in the baby seat.)
I worry that I'm really not very good at writing but no one has the heart to tell me (not fishing, just completing the list)
So, there you have today's inhabitants of my ever-changing but always-there list of nagging concerns.
Have you got niggly fears you just can't shake off?