Grasping

I am trying to get a straw for my drink at the carry-out counter. I want a clean one. But I drop it on the counter. That one is dirty, I need to get another. I put my hand out for another one, and the cashier hands it to me. Argh, now that one is dirty too. I notice the dispenser, and try that. But the straw drops to the floor on the way to my drink. The line is backing up, people are staring. I try to grab another one from the dispenser, grasping it around the middle with my fingernails. I am trying not to touch the 2nd straw in there, or punch the button and make more come out, causing more trash. But it is so hard. I have such butterfingers! I try to squeeze just the one straw in my fingers. Ah, success! I have a straw in my hand!

Raising it up over my head, I awaken from my sleepy dream, wondering why I needed a straw to begin with. I don’t even like straws. That is what it feels like trying to please other people. After hard focus and anguish, I finally succeed in the picture placed before me of success. It is all finally accomplished, only for me to realize that I don’t need it. No one really needed to do what I thought needed doing so badly. And I have caused so much waste in the process.

More soon,