Constant Worrier

Worrying is a great pastime for non-creative minds. For a retired person any easily accessible worrying point is a game. Having given little quality time to our progeny in our heydays, we tend to make their lives miserable later by taking upon ourselves the unsolicited burden of keeping an eye on all their affairs. We feel suitably concerned if occasionally during an insomniac phase we fail to hear appropriate love sounds favouring our son from his nuptial room. As worry about dear sonny's inadequacy grips us, we may even wake up the menopausal libido-deprived spouse to seek the overworked lady's opinion on the absence of any sounds certifying the daughter-in law's rapturous glee! The young couple's failure to deliver a heir within stipulated time is further grist for the worrying old mill.
Then there is the extended family and the circle of aging, physically battered and ailing friends to provide unlimited rallying points for building up a worrying mindset.
The other day, another rather unusual worry slashed my mind when I happened to attend the prayer-meeting of a dear departed friend whose giant photograph displayed before the grieving well-wishers did little justice to his real personality. To the horror of my immediate family, I actually became rather obsessed with my own photographic appearance when my time arrives!