Balance II

No use crying over spilled milk!

How many times have you heard that one? Actually, the question should be, "how many times have you spilled milk?" Perhaps you felt a twinge of guilt and glanced sheepishly around to see if anyone saw. It may have taken a bit to go from feeling to thinking to grab a paper towel or two to wipe up the spill.

Let me paint a picture here so that we can eavesdrop on "self talk" to trace that process a little more.

Imagine a woman who just spent hours doing what women do to get ready for a fancy, important party, and she looks good. She decides that, since she has a few minutes to spare, she can quickly whip up a special frosting for the cake she baked to bring instead of using the stuff in a can. She starts rummaging through her cupboards and soon discovers that there is no can of frosting, but all the dry ingredients for her special frosting is there. All that's needed is a half cup of milk. She opens the refrigerator door and sees that there is less than a half inch of milk left in the plastic gallon milk jug, just enough. She grabs it, flings around in haste, the milk jug snags the closing refrigerator door and falls to the floor. The top pops off, the jug bounces up in a somersault, and what's left of the milk goes everywhere, including on shoes, dress, hair....

Oh no oh no oh NO! She is frozen in place, eyes wide in disbelief and one hand over her mouth. The seconds tick, tick and then yes, a tear wells up.

Shit! This is not happening! She draws in a deep breath, her eyes narrow and her hands are clenched fists against her thighs. She stomps a foot once, then again and again.

My cake! My dress, my shoes, my hair! The foot that was stomping now serves a good kick to the offending refrigerator door. The pain is immediate, and this time, what's in her mind is said out loud:

"Dammit!" She hops on one foot over to a kitchen chair to melt into it, elbos on knees, head in hands.

*****

Thirty minutes later, ten fashionably late minutes past on time, we see our girl arrive at the party looking good (though slightly limping) and toting a fully frosted cake.

Feeling to thinking. How did she do it?