The Drawer is Stuck

Posted by Lisa Laree to Beer Lahai Roi

I've figured it out.

All those times that I look at someone I know well and can't come up with a  name...those moments in conversations when the noun I'm looking for eludes me...basically any time I can't come up with a bit of something that I KNOW I know...here's what happens...

The little neurons in my brain run to the file cabinet where that particular bit of info is stored and discover the drawer is stuck.   They can't get it open to give me the requested info in a timely fashion.

Oh, they usually do manage to get the drawer open eventually...sometimes minutes...sometimes hours...later and that random bit of info will suddenly pop into the forefront of my consciousness,  but at the moment I really need it - nothing.

So if I'm talking to you and suddenly get a blank look on my face and tell you, 'The drawer is stuck', you'll know that I really do know, but that data is just not accessible at that moment.

'Cause, you know, the drawer is stuck. ;-)

I Don't Like Cranky

But I am. 

I could go into some of the reasons, but it would just be a whine so I'm not going to subject you to that.

So here is the real challenge of a daily blog; what to share when I got nothin'.

So I'll share a joke one of the pastors told the office staff in the hall this morning:

The pastor's little girl was having a very bad day.  Her mother was at her wit's end to try and control her behavior.  Finally, she sat her daughter down and said, 'I'm so sorry, dear, but you have just behaved atrociously today.  I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you home from the Sunday School picnic on Saturday."

The little girl was heartbroken and wailed piteously, but her mother was firm that her bad behavior  had to suffer the consequences.

The next day, the child's behavior had done a complete reversal.  She was submissive, helpful and obedient.  The good behavior continued the next day and the next.  Impressed, her mother spoke to her husband, wondering if perhaps they should now reward their daughter's dramatic improvement.  He was agreeable, so they called the little girl in and told her that, due to continued good behavior, she would be allowed to attend the picnic after all.

To their astonishment, she began to wail piteously once more.  'Honey,' her mother asked,'what's wrong?  You can go to the picnic!'

'No, I can't!'  the child sobbed, 'I've been praying for rain!'

Well, maybe the sentiment was wrong, but I need to learn to have that much confidence in my prayers... maybe that would help the cranky... ;-)