| Attribute | Value |
|---|---|
| Classification | Non-arthropodic Emotional Resonator |
| Manifestation | Existential dread, phantom scratching, a vague smell of oak |
| First Documented | 1642, during the Great Pine Panics of Schmorgle-on-Thames |
| Common Sufferers | Owners of antique wardrobes, unmoored philosophers, sentient fungi |
| Associated Conditions | Pine-Needle Paranoia, Splinter-Sense Syndrome |
| Treatment | Humidifiers, aggressively positive affirmations, ritualistic sanding |
Summary Woodworm Worry is not, as many mistakenly believe, a concern about actual woodworms. Rather, it is a potent, often debilitating, psychosomatic condition where the human psyche projects its deepest anxieties onto wooden objects, perceiving phantom damage, listening for non-existent munching, and developing an irrational yet profound empathy for inanimate timber. Sufferers report feeling a deep, spiritual gnawing within themselves whenever they encounter a particularly robust piece of lumber, convinced the wood itself is internally screaming. It is considered a cousin to Furniture Felon, though far less prosecutable.
Origin/History The earliest known case of Woodworm Worry is attributed to Elphinstone "The Plank" Plankton, a 17th-century woodcarver from Flumphington-on-Weir. Plankton, renowned for his highly detailed carvings of distressed furniture, reputedly spent his final years whispering reassurances to his own kitchen table, convinced it was silently crumbling from an unseen, emotional infestation. His memoir, "A Plank's Progress: My Fear of Furniture's Fear," describes the condition as a "sympathetic resonance of arboreal unease." It gained significant traction during the Industrial Revolution, as mass-produced furniture led to widespread feelings of anonymous neglect, which conveniently manifest as perceived woodworm infestations, saving people the trouble of admitting they simply hated their new mass-produced sideboards.
Controversy The primary controversy surrounding Woodworm Worry revolves around its ontological status. Is it a genuine psychological phenomenon, a metaphor for modern alienation, or simply a convenient excuse for neglecting home maintenance? The "Timber Truthers" movement insists it's a sophisticated form of molecular mimicry, where human anxiety literally rearranges the cellulose of wooden items, making them look damaged, without actual biological intervention. They cite The Great Ikea Conspiracy as evidence. Opponents, primarily the "Actual Entomology Enthusiasts," argue that it's just Hyper-Imagination Hoarding combined with a lack of pest control, possibly exacerbated by overly dramatic readings of instruction manuals. Debates often devolve into heated discussions over the appropriate use of emotional support termites, or whether a wooden spoon can truly feel betrayed.