What am I worried about?

JOURNAL: 9/20/15.

Worked at Pegasus yesterday, the first time I've worked on Saturday in a long time. Saturday's are different, we get more of a casual visitor type customers, which can sometimes drive me crazy. 

I just tried to go with the flow. There were several surges, as people streamed by leaving whatever big event happened on the street over. Weiner dog races or whatever. Thankfully, it was Oregon St. and not Minnesota St. that was closed this time.

Hundreds of people walking by, looking neither right nor left, headed for their cars.

Later in the afternoon, they started to clump together, as the beer flow began to have an effect, and it got louder and a little more party-like.  Guy playing a saxophone on the corner, the town cross-dresser in front of my store, raising eyebrows. "Oh, he's a fixture around here," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Took it all in stride.  It is not my thing to hang out and drink and socialize and all that other stuff -- but I've done it a few times in my life, and I can see the appeal when I step out of myself.  But it is not my thing.

So I tried to be broadminded about it. The agoraphobia didn't kick in, I didn't tighten up, even when I closed the store and wound my way through the revelers. 

Meanwhile, I was all worried about my writing career the other day when it suddenly dawned on me, "What are you worried about?"

I'm in an great place, really. I have a thriving business that is still really fun and interesting to me and looks like it has a future, with or without me. I've got the best wife and friend in the world with Linda.  A visitor yesterday said to me, "You are the happiest couple I know." Heh.

Financially we're at least secure, and we have a nice house fully paid for.  We both have our health, minus a few creaks and groans. My writing career is very satisfying, and I've already exceeded my original goals and there still seems to be some trajectory to it.

What am I worried about, right?  (Knock wood as always.)