Some of us worry more than others. For my part, I do it a lot. So much, in fact, that I’ve taken to wearing a rubber band around my wrist, and, when I catch myself borrowing trouble from the future, I give my wrist a wicked snap. I have gone through four rubber bands so far. They start out nice and stretchy, but, eventually, they become slack with overuse.

 Anyway, one of my favorite people has had some extra things to worry about lately, so I made her the Worry Man above. To employ his services, you simply scrawl your worry du jour on a tiny scrap of paper, fold it up, and pop it into the Worry Man’s creepy, gaping maw. There is no way to retrieve your worries, by the way. They remain permanently in the Worry Man’s guts, and I made sure he has space enough for a few years’ worth of worries at least. Once they are in him, the burden of your worry has been transfered to him — leaving you free to come up with some new worries, I suppose.

–S.