Today, I neglected to remember one fact per apple I hoarded from the cafeteria:

a. I was not going straight back to my dorm

b. I was not carrying a bag, and

c. I cannot juggle.

(a) thus I walked down the street like an idiot (b) holding two apples in one hand and one apple and my phone in the other, like one of those people who juggles at a talent show but hasn’t realized the music already started.

(c),  I bet if I was juggling, people would be pretty impressed.

It turns out this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. Let’s remain in metaphor, yes? I’m tempted to take apples because I figure they’ll be good for later then remember that they’re devilishly inconvenient for me now. I forget that I cannot juggle without going from three apples to none, or three apples to three very badly bruised apples.

Because it’s not just about the apples. It’s all the stuff I might be good at; all the stuff I’d like; where I’m needed, when I need it. When I need to help, fix, jump, slide, stay awake, fret, laugh, yell, smile, smile more… and carry three apples.

They say, keep your head above water, but as it turns out I can bob in and out sometimes and still swim against the tide.

They say, bob for one apple at a time.

They say, you can’t juggle.

I know, one day, I might end up on the bottom of the ocean with three bruised apples floating above my head.

They say, don’t mix metaphors.

But I still try, and I’m not sure why.