The brain is a fascinating organ. Some are more fascinating than others, granted.
For example, here’s a flaw in mine (no comments from the peanut gallery, a.k.a. my children, about there being far more than one flaw). When someone is trying to teach me something I dislike learning, such as computer technology, my brain opens up three files. No more. Three. If you try to squeeze in another weensy piece of information, all three files get tossed into the air, papers flutter everywhere, and the entirety of the information sits on the floor like a pile of confetti.
St. Bob was recently trying to cram the entire instruction book of my new cell phone into my weary noggin, excited about all the features, apps, and options I could now enjoy. I told him I could remember three things, but if he tried to add a fourth, I’d forget all of them.
“It’s like pouring water into a container,” I explained. “There’s only so much room.”
Nevermind that he cannot remember where the pie plates are stored or how much to water each of the plants on the patio. No amount of explanation can make uninteresting things stick if our brains choose to switch gears to something we like better.
Which reminds me of the other comparison St. Bob has used, when speaking of my brain. Have you ever been bicycling, not shifted all the way through, and been caught between gears? Bob claims this is rare, but it happens to me all the time, and there I am, stuck in neutral with a rattling chain. Bob says it’s just like my brain: Racing, but going nowhere.
He chuckles at these lame comparisons, and excuses them because he believes he is giving me material. “This gives me permission to say anything, because it’s for your blog,” he says. “Have you ever put in ‘blond haired vixen?’ Put that in there.”
“Okay, this is not a forum for every ridiculous thing you can think of saying,” I tell him. On the other hand, I do keep a pen handy.
“Put this in,” he says. “I just ordered you a new cell phone.”