Like a Cat on My Chest
Sometimes, when I'm lying on my loveseat, writing out a blog post or article idea or 5 Minutes of Caring piece, I'll get really into it. I'll type away, churning out brilliant idea after brilliant idea, packing as much meaning as I can into just the right amount of words. I'll be hitting my stride, where nearly every sentence comes out perfectly, where rewrites and revisions are minimal, if they exist at all.
And then my overweight cat will come and sit on my chest.
At first she'll stand there, completely blocking my line of site to the laptop screen. She'll turn around a few times, trying to find her balance amidst the inconsistencies of shape that comprise my chest and stomach. She'll continue to circle until she sits, now only blocking half of the screen. Soon enough, if I'm lucky, she'll squash herself down in a space not meant for a girl her size, finally enabling me to finish what I began.
And she could care less.
How many of the members of our YPO are like my cat – forever taking up space and center stage while we tirelessly try to get things done for the sake of others?
And then my overweight cat will come and sit on my chest.
At first she'll stand there, completely blocking my line of site to the laptop screen. She'll turn around a few times, trying to find her balance amidst the inconsistencies of shape that comprise my chest and stomach. She'll continue to circle until she sits, now only blocking half of the screen. Soon enough, if I'm lucky, she'll squash herself down in a space not meant for a girl her size, finally enabling me to finish what I began.
And she could care less.
How many of the members of our YPO are like my cat – forever taking up space and center stage while we tirelessly try to get things done for the sake of others?
Read the gripping conclusion at YPCommons.org.
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