I'm not in the habit of showing off what's on the end of my fork.  Sometimes, however, I'm compelled to write with my mouth open. 
     This is one of those times.

     I'm worried about my cat, Jester.  In a couple hours we'll be taking him to the vet for blood tests and X-rays in an attempt to determine once and for all if he has diabetes and/or heartworms.  If he's ok, we'll go ahead and make an appointment to have his abscessed broken tooth extracted.  If he's not ok, I'm not sure what we'll do.  I can't see us injecting insulin into him twice a day, but maybe there's an alternative.  Maybe the vet will have something new to suggest for his chronic diarrhea, too.
     Sigh.

     If I wasn't worried about Jess, I'd just be worrying about something else, of course.  Worrying is one of the things I do best. 
     I'm told I worried quite a bit about the Cuban Missile Crisis when I was just 3, but I'm afraid I don't remember that.
     I do recall being very worried the morning of Nov. 23, 1963 - but only over how JFK's funeral procession threatened to pre-empt all my favorite cartoons.
     My fears of alien invasion were rather longer lasting.....

     As life has gradually seemed to improve over the years, my worrying has remained steady - just switched to smaller and smaller things.  Instead of stagflation and war between Russia and China, I now worry about dust bunny stampedes and the theory behind Gap ads. 
     And, umm, various other things....

     Like Sunday we drove 2 hours to meet my in-laws for brunch, and before we left the parking lot to enter the small town restaurant we were meeting them at, I had to go back to the car, unlock the door, get in, and physically lock my cup of water in the glove compartment.  Just so no one would steal it.
     "You know, Hon, if someone is desperate enough for water to break into a car to get it, they probably need it much more badly than you do," my wife told me as we entered the restaurant.
     So of course I had to go back and put my cup of water back in the car holder in plain view of all thirsty passers-by.
     And then I had to go back a third time to put a sign in the window: "No Ice!"
     Just so no one would risk prison time for half a cup of warm water.
     I spent the entire meal wondering if I shouldn't have just left the cup on the hood after we'd found a shadier place to park....

     Most days my worries are far less significant.
     Here's an example - a minor worry that has plagued me for the last week or so:
     "Should I include X in my journal or not?"
     Now X just happens to be the following:
     "Do you know how to tell when you've entered an upper class neighborhood in Kentucky?  All the refrigerators on the front porches are side-by-sides."
     Now that's a terrible thing to say, isn't it? 
     And what's even worse is that I think I came up with it and my wife thinks she did.  So if I use it here, not only will I appear to be ludicrously prejudiced and bigoted with regard to my neighbors to the south, but I'll have to give my wife credit for being ludicrously prejudiced and bigoted about them first - exactly as if I don't have the ability to be that way all by myself.  
     On the other hand, I'm sure I came up with this observation all alone:
     "Do you know how you've finally got it made in Kentucky?  You can afford to put in a 4-car front yard." 
     I could just settle for using that, but I don't think it's nearly as good (as these awful and unfair putdowns of an entire class of people go).
     So guess it's best for me not to say anything at all.
     How unnatural!!!
     It's really a wonder that I get any sleep at night at all....

     I know, I know - hard to believe that I actually worry about what I put in these entries, but I do.
     For example, I thought about dropping the following in sometime, but decided against it:
     "They say everyone has a book in them, but in most cases X-rays reveal it's best just to leave them in there undisturbed." 
     Too medical.
     And of course I've really, really been aching to include this:
     "Perforated Condoms, Inc.: Proud Promoters of Even Egg Fertilization Since 1954."
     But my internal editor has red-lined it every time.  So: If you really want to read it, drop me an email and I'll send it to you off-the-record....

     Ok.  I think it's obvious that worry over my cat is interfering with my ability to write a decent entry today, so I'll just wrap things up with the following true-life confession:
     "I used to have an irrational fear of futons.  But just a few brief sessions with a special counselor enabled me to turn that into an entirely rational fear."
     That's all.  Time to shut my mouth and swallow....

     Ewww.  I knew I should have taken a few more mints from that restaurant!
     If only I hadn't been so damn anxious to check on my water....