Unlike Alfred E. Newman, I worry...about everything.  For instance, if I'm waiting for my wife, and she's five minutes late, I automatically assume she's in critical condition at some local hospital emergency room.  After my daughter was born, I got into the habit of going down to her room, in the middle of the night, and holding a mirror under her nose. It doesn't hurt to be sure everything is okay. 

And, of course, anytime my daughter was more than ten minutes late in coming home, I started calling the police departments. My daughter always thought I was just a bit mental. That is, until she had a child.

She was telling me the other day that when her son (five years old) is playing in his room and is "too quiet," she has to keep checking to make sure he hasn't choked on his pillow or something. She told me the other day, "I'm so frightened I'm becoming another you."

That got me to thinking. I bet I'm the way I am because of my mother. Even today, when I go to strike a match, I look around to make sure she's is not looking. I don't do it as often as I did when she was alive, but I still do it. She was always warning me of the damage I could do if I played with matches.

But it's not just matches. I worry about all the things my mother convinced me I should worry about when I was a kid.  Crossing the street, for instance. You do know that you can get killed doing that, don't you. I often stand on the corner, petrified of crossing.  And I never open a car door until the car has come to a complete stop. That's because my grandmother knew this woman who had a friend who's child opened the car door once (I believe it was in 1947) and the child fell out and the mother almost ran over him. That was close...too close.

I also do a lot of worrying about putting eyes out. I panic every time I use a stapler. If you turn that thing the wrong way...WOP! There goes an eye.  And staplers are child's play compared with electric nail guns. I've never owned one. I don't think I've even been in the same room with one. As a result, I still have both eyes. So, it's worth the effort. I really wish I had never even heard of electric nail guns. I can't think of anything more horrifying.

Of course, as I've mentioned before, my worst fear is losing a toe. And I blame that on my mother, too. She used to warn me about stubbing a toe. It was something that must have preyed on her mind all her life. And I inherited that fear. Even today, if I do stub a toe, I have this compulsion to immediately stop what I'm doing, take my shoe off and count my toes.

Each time this happens, I cringe at the thought that I'll feel one toe dangling loose in my sock. So far, thankfully, my toes have stayed affixed to my feet. But, I know it's only a matter of time. Or, if it doesn't come from stubbing my toes, something will get them. An errant nail clipper. A spike in my blood sugar. I'm not sure what, but I'm convinced that while I might die with my boots on, there won't be ten toes in them.