Trivia: There was briefly a fourth elf in the 1950s named Pow.
This morning my computer monitor bit the dust. (Dust, Ha!—I’m laughing right along with those who’ve seen my workspace.)
The camel’s back is strained, and for a minute I thought this was the last straw. Lately my life’s a steady crackle with an occasional pop. I don’t want to SNAP!
By the way, I loved this question: Why doesn’t onomatopoeia sound like what it is?
No worries: I’m not a time bomb. I am so thankful I have God to talk to. Ps. 61:1 Hear my cry, O God; Attend to my prayer.
I will admit, these days I well up more than is typical for me historically. Yesterday, I briefly lost it after another disconcerting session with my geriatric patient. I told my daughter, “Menopause is a heck of a time to be raising a baby.” Lily, of course, offered help; but these minor meltdowns have nothing to do with overwork. Actually, I thrive on activity, and have not had any trouble keeping things done (praise God).
I chalk it up to the fact that—like everybody—I don’t have just one problem; it’s cumulative. Things get gnarly when you top that off with volatile hormones, and the fact that I haven’t been away from this house for more than 3 or 4 hours at a time since the lady got sick: it’s been seven months.
Yeah, the camel’s carrying a lot of straws (Crackle-crackle), and on some days the legs are sprawled every which-way (ooh, Pop!). But Hallelu-JAH, NO signs of a Snap!