When I was a kid, I loved the whack-a-mole game at the fair. You'd beat the crap out of those perky plastic moles as they poked their heads through the holes. Truthfully, it's still fun.
Except when it's a metaphor for life.
I fix one knitting problem and another pops up.
I get one kid's high school scheduled resolved and the other comes home with a suspicious lump. That turns out to be a staph infection dangerously close to her elbow joint. Which means fear, anxious scrutiny, cancellation of appointments and work to-do's, and one very angry kid who DOES NOT WANT TO MISS SCHOOL OR DEIDRE OR FREE CHOICE IN PE OR PRESENTING MY SOCIAL STUDIES POWERPOINT PROJECT OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU'RE DOING TO ME!!!!
The upstairs gets nice and clean (because I've got to stay busy while we're watching the elbow because MRSA is a definite possibility) and the downstairs is suddenly a disaster.
I finally complete formatting of a student database (okay, thanks to T's acumen) so I can start putting together the directory and a freelance assignment comes up - due at about the same time.
We get one house repair taken care of and as soon as the very expensive but nonetheless effective expert leaves something else breaks.
Whack-a-mole. Fits, doesn't it?
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