My inner editor jabbed me in the ribs. "Way to go. That judge is ready to throw the book at you for what you did."
"He doesn't need to," I growled. "I feel so bad I'd throw a book at myself right now."
My crime? I had been thinking as I drove the car to pick up my daughter from her job. Suddenly, a great idea came to me. It was perfect. Did I have paper handy? Yes. That's why my purse is so heavy. Did I have pencils or pens? Many. I carry that stuff with me always. But I didn't take the time to quickly jot down a quick phrase that would remind me of what I had been thinking about as I drove. The result? A lost idea.
I could KICK MYSELF. I hate it when I do that. I know better. It's happened before. I dragged my attention back to the black figure perched behind the bench.
The judge shook his head sorrowfully. "When will you ever learn? I sentence you to severe mental anguish as you attempt to recall that lost thought. Next time, write it down."
Know what? Next time I will.
I vote for kicking that judge off the bench. He is entirely too severe. Good ideas often recur. Nothing wrong with jotting things down, but really spectacular ideas are never lost. Expect that idea to come back again, Beth.
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