Glove Box Syndrome


I don't know about you - but I'm not normal! (It has been said, it's just a dryer setting anyway!)

During one of my nightly  "I can't sleep because the pain is coming from all directions" episodes, 
I came up with all kinds of stories to write about. But then, the pain is too great to bother getting up and writing it down, so I just hope they go 'round and 'round my head enough times to dig a groove, and stay there until needed!

I have decided my brain is an overstuffed glove box.  You know, those tiny, little compartments in your car, to hold ALL your essentials. Like maps and pens and paper, and the car manual and official papers, band-aids, flashlights, sunglasses, a stocking hat, lip balm, extra change, dry socks, Cheerios, oh, and uh, gloves! 

(Am I the only one that tries to stuff that bugger as full as possible, and forget what all is actually in there?) They really need to make them larger! Oh. Right. They used to. When I actually needed Cheerios. Remind me to throw those out...

So, if you have EVER been guilty of stuffing a glove box as full as I used to, you know the frustration of it popping back open and all the little pieces spilling all over the floor. While you are driving. When the light turns green. And baby just dropped his Binky. With more little munchkins squirming in their car seats. (Did I say squirming? I think the word I'm looking for is - s c r e a m i n g?)

That, dear reader, is my Pain-brain. Glove Box Syndrome is real. 

Stories taken from the journey of my life by: Sue Leerhoff  Brick by Brick

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