Ask anyone who knows me, and they will tell you that I am just about the most nervous person that you'll ever have the chance to meet.  I've always been nervous, even ever since I was a kid.  I used to have mini anxiety attacks when the gasoline gauge in either of my parent's cars would start to tip below a quarter of a tank.  I automatically got worried that we were going to run out of gas and get stranded somewhere.  I don't really know why I thought this, because I don't recall us ever running out of gas a single time.  I used to worry when my parents would get into an argument that they were going to ultimately get separated.  I worried when my little brother didn't do what he was supposed to as far as chores when he got home from school, because I knew that that was going to make my father angry with him.  My worrying carried through high school, college, my job, and now on into graduate school.  Sometimes it's the school stuff that I worry about, sometimes it's life things that I worry about, and yes, sometimes it's the money things that I worry about.  I worry about things that I don't have much control over, like technically things that are going to cost me a lot of money to fix.  My latest mini anxiety attack came just this afternoon as I was driving home from work.  As I was driving, I heard some squeaking noise that I really couldn't identify.  I just prayed to God that it wasn't coming from my car.  I tried to do a quick troubleshoot of the problem by testing a few different possibilities.  The squaking wasn't constant, so I knew that it wasn't something inherently wrong with the internal mechanics of my car.  It wasn't especially doing it when I was braking, so I figured that my brakes weren't the problem...I just had them replaced last July after all.  It wasn't squeaking especially when I accelerated...I was just baffled.  I got pretty nervous since I couldn't immediately nail down the problem.  If it was something with my car, the last thing I wanted to do was to bring it in with some unexplainable problem that was going to require that the dealership run some diagnostic tests to try and figure out what was causing the problem.  The cost for that test starts out at about seventy dollars in the first place.  I always find that if there is a problem, it's better to try and determine what that problem might be so that you can explain it and send the mechanic looking in the right direction in order to avoid the diagnostic fee.  I tried not to get too nervous since, after all, there didn't appear to be anything major wrong.  Only when I finally arrived at my apartment, shut off the car, and got out did the real source of the problem strike me.  I still heard the squeaking...and my car was not even still running.  The squeaking that I heard would stop and start...then stop and start again.  I knew that there was no way that this squeaking was coming from my car...although it sounded unmistakably automobile-like and sort of metallic...like a squeaky wheel that needed some grease.  I stood baffled for a few more minutes until I came to my conclusion.  The squeaking was coming from some sort of insect...it had to be.  Having not spent an entire summer in central southern Indiana, I'm not entirely familiar with the fauna of these parts, and so this squeaking immediately appeared to be something mechanical to me.  I just wonder what kind of crazy bug (yuck...bugs!) out there was producing this odd sound.  I don't really know who to ask about it, because of course whoever I tell about my concern is going to laugh at me and think that I'm crazy.  I am however still pretty interested to know for my own edification.  Anyways, this whole ordeal was a little life lesson to myself to take a breath and relax before jumping to conclusions.  Sure, I tell myself this now and think of this little life lesson, but I think that it's just engrained in my head to get nervous when something could potentially be wrong.  This is a good quality sometimes, but a certain former employer of mine...who probably reads this blog...will surely tell you that my anxiety-prone nature can be a pain sometimes.  Ah well...we've all got our quirks!