All of the various and sundry tupperware in my possession live in a single cabinet in the kitchen of my 115-year-old house. At one time this cabinet was organized. Containers of like design were neatly nested together, from big squares to small, from large bowls to tiny ones. Note the phrase "at one time." That time has gradually passed, and now anyone who dares open the doors to this cavern of plastic wonders will instead be greeted by a great hodge-podge of food storage devices. Nothing is stacked neatly. Large things are resting precariously on top of smaller ones. Squares, rectangles, and circles are all living together in an apparently harmonious disarray, seeming to be balanced stably enough, until that one time when the door is opened and suddenly a cascade of tupperware rains down to the floor.
That's about how I've felt about my life in the last couple of weeks. Everything is getting crammed in there somehow - church, school, relationships, family, friends... - and yet it seems that at any time one little thing could suddenly become unbalanced and cause the whole mess to come crashing down.
I guess it's a good thing that I'm not the one holding it all together.
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