I am a self-confessed worry wart. I can’t help myself. Sometimes it turns me into an angry ball that puts the hood up on my hoodie and stares out at the word with distaste and disdain. This was first brought to my attention (I mean I knew I was a worry wart I just didn’t realized other people knew it too) while watching the movie Identity Theft. Melissa McCarthy’s character has just stolen Jason Bateman’s identity. He goes to get gas and his credit card is denied.
Layce looked over at me. I’d put my hood up and I was scowling. I had the dog blanket wadded up in my fists. Darla Sue stared at me intently. She wanted her blanket back.
“What’s wrong?” Layce asked.
I was so focused on the injustice committed by one human being upon another I didn’t hear her. “Huh?”
“You look sort of tense.”
“Why do you say that?”
Darla Sue’s blanket had been squeezed into the size of softball and would probably never be the same.
“You’ve got your hood up and you look like an angry ball.”
“I can’t stand when people do this kind of stuff. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to fix his credit, to convince people that he is not the bad guy? Look he’s getting arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. Identity theft is one of my greatest fears. I worry about it daily.”
Emma came out of her room. “Are you watching Cube?”
“No, why?” Layce asked.
“Because she looked like that when we watched it and she kept muttering something about the evils of government and how they manipulate people and how she hates the Man.”
“The government does all these creepy things that we can’t even fathom and there’s nothing the average citizens can do about it. It’s one of my biggest fears that I’ll get snatched unjustly and carried off to some undisclosed location and I’ll never see you guys again.”
“I think we’ll stick to comedies from now on. Do you have any fears or anger issues with those?” Layce inquired.
“No, I’m okay if I’m laughing. It’s hard to laugh and worry.”
Layce put another movie into the DVR. It was Neil Simon’s Out-of-Towners. About twenty minutes into the movie, I looked over and Layce was strangling the sofa pillow. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“I can’t stand it,” she said. “Things keep getting worse and worse. Jack Lemmon lost his wallet and his shoes and they’re stuck in Central Park and they’re going to die!” Tears actually filled her eyes.
I snapped off the TV.
“Let’s read,” I said.
“Good idea,” she said.
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