The Worrying Gene

Luke's gone for the weekend, camping with friends.

I've gotten a little bit better at coping when Luke is out of town, but I have a definite pattern in the days and hours leading up to his departure.

This primarily includes troubleshooting. I brainstorm all of the things that could possibly go wrong on the trip:

He could eat fish that he catches in a contaminated lake and get sick.

The car could break down.

He could not get cell phone reception and not be able to call me to say goodnight.

And then, I do my best to guard against all of these things, so that our conversation in the hour or so before he leaves goes something like this:

Alli: Don't eat any fish that you catch this weekend.

Luke: Why not?

Alli: Because, you might get sick. What if the water is contaminated?

Luke: I'm sure the water's fine.

Alli: Ok, well make sure to find the lever for windshield wipers on John's car before you start driving, so you know where they are in case it rains while you're driving.

Luke: Ok, I will.

Alli: Ok, well, text me when you get there. When do you think you'll get there?

And so on...

I can't help myself. I think I got the worrying gene from my grandma.

Thank goodness Luke is one of the more patient people I know...