I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about the recycling bins.

The council had neglected to collect our refuse the previous day. And so I had donned my Crocs and trotted down the road to review the situation.

They’d clearly picked up everyone else’s. I wondered if they were punishing me for some crime of refuse mismanagement. Had I left the bins in the wrong location? Had I included inappropriate materials? Had I misallocated some coffee cups or bubble wrap?

Over the coming week I would have to eke out the small amount of space left in the green containers. With a little prudent packing and assiduous compression, I could perhaps make it through. But then I realised there was a public holiday approaching and I’d need to survive an extra day before the collection.

And so here I was in a cold sweat, uneasy and apprehensive, calculating in the dark.

Of course I shouldn’t be stressed at all. Since I’ve stepped back (as they say) from the front line of professional engagement, I have been fortunate to lead a relatively easygoing life. The recycling collection is really not that important.

And yet, when I think about it, the amount that I fret has remained pretty constant. In the past I was anxious about pitch strategies, client relations, budget reconciliation and redundancies. Now I’m equally troubled by desk clutter, ticket booking and sandal closure; by muesli stocks, thank you cards and name recollection.

'To be without some of the things you want is an indispensable part of happiness.’
Bertrand Russell

I read a review of the recently published book 'After Work.' Its authors Helen Hester and Nick Srnicek cite what’s known as Cowan’s Paradox. Some years ago American historian Ruth Schwartz Cowan established that the amount of time spent on domestic work did not decrease at all between the 1870s and the 1970s. The benefits of a century of labour-saving devices had been countered by behavioural and attitudinal changes in the home - such as increasing standards of hygiene, more intensive parenting and more elaborate cooking practices.

This phenomenon calls to mind Parkinson’s Law. In an article about bureaucracy in The Economist in 1955 the naval historian C Northcote Parkinson observed that officials tend to want subordinates, not rivals; and that they like to make work for each other. Consequently ‘work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.’

Reflecting on my recycling dilemma, perhaps, in similar vain, anxiety expands to fill the time available.

'My life has been full of terrible misfortunes, most of which never happened.’
Michel de Montaigne

Certainly it is human to worry. We naturally get upset and unsettled, whether about substantive issues or trivialities. We torment ourselves with dark thoughts and grim forebodings. We toss and turn; brood and stew. Small annoyances become massive grievances. Trifling concerns become tremendous fears.

Of course an excess of stress can be crippling. We need to do everything we can to help sufferers and limit its effects.

But that doesn’t mean we should seek to eradicate anxiety entirely. In moderation and properly directed, our worrying wards off complacency. It builds preparedness and resilience. And, more than this, it stimulates creativity; motivates change; propels action.

'Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.'
T S Eliot

This prompts me to conclude that we should regard anxiety, not as an enemy to be defeated, but as a troublesome friend to be accommodated.

And with respect to our work worries, we should endeavour to keep them in proportion. In my own experience, the most irritating incidents, the most troublesome clients, the most disturbing prospects, don’t seem so important with the passing of time.

'Worrying is paying interest on a debt you might not even owe.'
Mark Twain

Now, a few weeks on from my sleepless night, I’ve caught up with the recycling, and the refuse collection has resumed its natural rhythm.

I should relax. But of course I have other things to worry about.

'Success is having to worry about every damn thing in the world, except money.'
Johnny Cash

'Do I worry cause you're stepping out?
Do I worry cause you got me in doubt?
Though your kisses aren't right, do I give a bag of beans?
Do I stay home every night and read my magazine?
Am I frantic, cause we lost that spark?
Is there panic when it starts turning dark?
And when evening shadows creep, do I lose any sleep over you?
Do I worry? You can bet your life I do.’

Ink Spots, ‘Do I Worry?’ (B Worth / S Cowan)

No. 440