Well, I used to be a worrier. I hate to say it, but it's true, with age comes wisdom. Sometime in my 30's I realized that I worried obsessively about things that never happened. And the disasters that did happen were out of the blue. Never saw them coming. About that time, I stopped being a worrier. I decided it was a waste of time because the things I worried about never happened and I had to conserve my energy for the things that did happen.





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It drives my family crazy but apparently I come by it naturally because my Dad's sister were/are that way. My mother used to call me Estelle Jr. because that was one of Dad's sister who saw the end of the world in everything thing that happened. It was a sad way to live and luckily I'm not that bad.









The thing is that the dog picks up on you feeling worried and makes it all worse for you to keep the dog still to scissor in the first place





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