If you've ever seen one of these:
you've probably also seen a comedy sketch in which one goes haywire and starts firing balls faster and faster at a poor, helpless, hapless soul who just wants a better backhand.
Lately, life has been hurling things at me like a maniacal tennis ball machine. Fast, slow, curving, heavy, featherweight, aimed high, low and in between. All without me thinking my backhand even needed work. Or that I even needed my backhand anymore at all.
When all those things are flying at you, you try to cover up the best you can. Or you at least try to make yourself a smaller target. Me, I'm curling up in bed and covering up with quilts. When the barrage is over, not just timing-out, I'll come out from under.