Anyone who is close to me has probably noticed that I fret about my friends' health and safety like a neurotic mother hen. Many people assume that I will be one of those overprotective mothers who won't let her children cross the street until college. I hope this will not be the case.
I like to think that I am only rattled by situations that are a genuine cause for concern. Real health hazards instead of imaginary ones. I mean, I let D jump on the couch, so I can be too bad, right?
Don't answer that.
I blame my father for my constant worrying about safety. The following conversation will illustrate why.
Scene: I have just gotten home from the dog park and am making some lunch. My dad comes downstairs from the attic.
Dad: I need your help installing some insulation.
Me: OK. Right now? I'd like to eat something first.
Dad: No, in a few minutes. I'm taking a break. (starts rubbing his eye)
Me: Is your eye OK?
Dad: Just some dust.
Me: (putting two and two together) Have you been wearing goggles?
Dad: I don't know where they are.
Me: What the hell? I am NOT helping you up there without goggles.
Dad: Oh, it's just dust!
Me: NO, IT'S NOT!!! IT'S FIBERGLASS!!!
Dad: You'll be fine!
Me: I am not risking getting fiberglass in my eye. No. Goggles. Where are they?
So he proceeded to find me some goggles, all the while grumbling about what a "baby" I am.
This is why I am deeply concerned about the physical welfare abut everyone who is dear to me. Because apparently my own father is cool with me installing insulation without regulation safety equipment. I mean GEEZ.