I accidentally dropped my tea bag down the kitchen sink this morning which meant that I had to stick my hand down the garburator to fish it out. There's nothing much worse than feeling last night's dinner of beef and barley soup squish between my fingers while the blades' sharp edges threaten me with bloodthirsty possibilities. My body's physiological signals got crossed between fits of nausea (caused by the idea that I'm palpating vomit) and heart-pounding fear (of getting my hand shredded to bits). For the sake of the kids, I held it together just long enough to drag the tea bag out into safety at which point I collapsed from the sheer energy expense of it all.
I really miss my coffee.
Our cell phones are like garburators. Except not really at all, but I really want to talk about both, and I'm going to make this work. Both are functional and practical, taking in substance from one side and processing it through to the other side. But if used haphazardly, can chop us up to bits. Texting is the worst for this! How many times have each of us had one of those miscommunication moments where what we typed into our phones came out the other side looking like puke? And how many times have we found that the miscommunication has nearly chopped up a perfectly good relationship?
There have been many times in my life when I've decided to just toss my cell over the bridge but then clutched onto it in fear of missing out on something. Or maybe I could get rid of the texting feature and just use my phone for talking. I'm chewing on the idea, procrastinating as best I can as I know it will be a tough swallow.
A cup of coffee would sure help it go down.
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