I feel like I'm in the egg relay race, you know the one where you run with an egg balanced on a spoon, passing it off to the next racer without dropping it.
Only I'm not the racer, I am the egg. Wobbling, jiggling and bumping, in a slight scoop of metal with someone, or in this case, something carrying me along. I'm hoping to make it to the next part of the race without falling, putting my trust in an overexcited and sweaty third grader, who may or may not get me there safely, but keeping my fingers crossed.
Then again I guess it beats the alternative. Racing forward must be better than being scrambled or fried. Right?
1 comment:
c - your writing here is getting so tight. every word is awesome. so much said in so little. maybe all this juggling is good for the creative mind?
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