The Joel Train

I worry about car accidents and plane crashes, drowning and choking on food.  Or becoming the victim of a violent crime.  Setting aside the endless abyss of silence or the impossible concept of passing from existence into nonexistence, the thought of an abrupt death really makes me anxious about my filing system.  How will Ana pay our credit card bills if I were to get carried off by a twister?  Or what about our taxes?  Will she know where to look?  Or that MP3 of us singing in our little yellow kitchen all those years ago?  I have a copy, but I if die suddenly, will she find it?  Most of the important stuff is just buried beneath the not so important stuff.  

I worry about Ana being here in Savannah alone with Micah.  Who would help her?  Would she sell the house and move closer to her family?  Would she stay?  Will her next husband wear boat shoes?  

But more nights than I care to admit, it's the fear of my own body that snaps me awake.  What's lurking in there waiting to kill me?  Every time I fix something broken in my house I think, "This is asbestos.  In 20 years I will die from touching this one thing."  I worry about my colon.  I worry about drinking too much coffee.  About years of eating unwashed fruits.  I saw that eating pickles increases your risk of throat cancer.  They just did a study with rats that linked cell phone usage to brain and heart tumors.  I worry about rats using cell phones.  

It's a lot to think about at 2 am when I should be sleeping.  Also, not sleeping is bad for you.  Also, worrying.  Also...