Compare this to my mother, who basically stopped worrying about my personal safety sometime after I turned 21, because she figured, rightly so, that I was an adult who could take care of myself.
She called my mother at 10:15 pm, utterly terrified.
Granny: Where's Kimberly?
Mom: You know where she is.
What Mom Wanted To Say: None of your effing business.
Granny: But she said she'd be back today
Mom: So she's probably staying another night. She is 36.
Granny: What if she's stuck out in the snow?
Mom: She has a cellphone. And roadside assistance.
Granny: Well, who's going to take out the garbage?
Mom: Is there a lot of garbage?
Granny: Well, aren't you going to call her?
Granny: You have to call her! Where is she? Call ex's house! Or call his grandmother!
Mom: I don't have his phone number, let alone his grandmother's!
Granny: How can you not have his phone number?
It is at this point that, against her better judgement, my mother whipped out her cellphone and called me, while still on the phone with Granny. I didn't hear it ringing in my purse, so it went to voicemail.
Granny: Did she pick up?
Granny: I'll call you if she comes home.
Mom: Uh, don't do that.
This in turn drives my mother nuts, because then she starts thinking, "What if her corpse is in a ditch being fucked by a meth addict?"
P.S. Granny does have my cellphone number in her possession. She has never called it.