Moving worries: Part One

I am a rational, sensible human being. But sometimes when I’m doing, well, anything, my brain has been known to go into overdrive. I worry about things before I necessarily have to.

Fun fact: It’s a great thing to say in a job interview when they ask you about your weaknesses and you need one of those answers that sounds like a weakness but really implies that you’d be great. Don’t be the fool who says ‘Oh, I’m just too much of a perfectionist’ because everybody is that fool. Find a business-like way of saying ‘I worry about things that haven’t happened yet’ and you’ll sound like you’re the kind of person who puts a lot of thought into the future and is prepared for every eventuality, even if you genuinely are just irrationally worried that you won’t know how to prepare a fish if you ever catch a fish, even though you’ve never been fishing in your life and have no intention of starting now.

That was a genuine worry I have had in the past couple of weeks. Other worries I have had include:

The worry:

Will it be really inconvenient to be based in Cornwall if I ever become a very famous media personality?

The answer:

No, it’ll be fine. You can just ride your flying pig to your super-fancy and weirdly non-specific  “media” meetings.

The worry:

My new flat is a thirty five minute walk from my new office. Is this too long a journey?

The answer:

Your current house is a two hour walk/bus/train/walk, or walk/bus/tube/tube/tube journey from your current office. On one particularly memorable tube strike day you had a nine hour round trip. You’ll probably manage.

The worry:

Will my new kitchen be big enough to cook a three course meal in?

The answer:

Do you have sufficient patience and/or recipes to create three courses of anything?

The worry:

What if I can’t find a tap dancing class that’s a high enough level to allow me to continue tapping in Cornwall?

The answer:

Bitch, you are barely an intermediate. There are five-year-olds in Falmouth who are better dancers, and they’re presumably taking lessons somewhere. Come back to this when you can do a time step without counting in your head.

The worry:

Will I miss the nightlife in London?

The answer:

Here is a picture of you on your last night out in London. You tell me.

The desperation to leave is strong with this one.

I have a full-on list of these worries so strap in for more. And let’s all hope nobody steals my phone in the meantime because the thief would find very little on it beyond an extensive list of every single one of my totally irrational thoughts. And the world’s quietest Snapchat.

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