By now I trust most of you have recovered from your New Year celebrations. You may have even broken your resolutions already. Congratulations on holding out for so long.

My resolution this year is the same as the year before and the year before that: I WILL QUIT WORRYING ABOUT THINGS THAT I CAN’T HELP. I break this resolution early every year because it worries me that I will break it until I actually do.

The fretting starts each morning when I wake up, beginning with a physical inventory. Why is my foot a little bit sore? Is there a hint of a headache forming behind my left eye? Am I regular? This is likely to escalate through the day: Is my foot gangrenous? Will my retina detach? Do I have IBS?

After the physical evaluation, I move on to a personality assessment. Why am I so annoying? Why don’t I ever quite close a drawer and always leave cabinet doors slightly ajar? Can’t I quit interrupting people’s sentences? Do other boomers still bite their cuticles?

Once past this self-flagellation, I agonize over family and friends. Will the airplane John is building take to the sky and stay there until he wants it to come down? Is Mindy furious because I am a really bad friend who never, ever calls? Why did cousin Sherry review my book as only a three? Is Don such a curmudgeon that even gila monsters are more affable? I can even work myself into a lather over Facebook ‘friends’ I’ve never met who ‘like’ me. What if they unfriend or unlike me? Imagine being dumped by someone you didn’t even know.

By now it is nearly noon. I move on to national and world affairs. Is anyone NOT losing sleep about the economy, education, environment, medical costs, government? If you’re not concerned, you have a bigger problem than being a worrywart. You are dead and the You Fall We Haul funeral home will be along soon for your remains.

By day’s end I am nearly exhausted but have done nothing. Still, there are the evening hours. I move on to the free floating category. Things like invasion by killer bees. Or who will make it to the Final Four. Whether any of the Kardashians will have sex changes this year. If cheesecake can count as a protein serving.

Quit worrying, people tell me. Oh, sure. This year, I just may be too worried to get out of bed at all. Happy New Year from the back nine.

Linda B. Myers is a Port Angeles writer and author of such books as “Fun House Chronicles,” “A Time of Secrets: A Big Island Mystery” and the Bear Jacobs mystery series. Her work is available at amazon.com and local bookstores, plus excerpts appear on her website lindabmyers.com. Contact her at myerslindab@gmail.com or Facebook.com/lindabmyers.author.