Should I be Worried that I’m Not Worried

Hello folks, let’s chat…Not a day goes by that my email box isn’t flooded with things I’m supposed to be worrying about. Many of these concerns have a Chicken Little feel, only these people know the sky is falling because their “mother’s sister’s cousin-in-law’s uncle’s aunt had X and Y happen to them so this isn’t just a forward and you had best pass it along lest you be guilty of accelerating the extinction of mankind.”

Whoa– it’s powerful stuff! I swanee, there’s many a day I’d crawl right back into bed if I were the worrying sort; which I’m not. If anything worried me, it’d be my inability to worry, which suggests that I don’t know enough to worry, but, I’m not worried. Are y’all still with me?

I come from the tribe of Tigger.

 

This, however, is apparently a character flaw to those dedicated emailers trying to alert me to the dangers of __________. (You fill in the blank.) Fortunately, many of these ominous emails have places where I can donate to their cause to ease my mind or buy their products to protect myself. Lucky me, or is that, lucky them?

Not that I’m questioning everyone’s motives. I’m sure the Chicago woman who developed the gas mask brassiere did it for the good of mankind. You haven’t heard?! That’d be the female undergarment that’s ready to be deployed at the first sign of chemical attack, or perhaps even the germs of a fellow human. When threatened, the wearer can simply snatch off the undergarment and detach the individual cups, which can now double as a gas mask—one for herself and one for the lucky bystander of her choice. Bubba said if his Aunt Clydette had one she could save half of the town all by herself, but I told him that was flat out ugly and he should stop.

Besides, Uncle Amos said if anybody other than him buried his face there, he would soon discover that a nuclear attack would be a much preferable way to go!

Hugs, Shellie