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"They should be home any time now," she thought as she put the finishing touches on the chocolate cake she was frosting. It was the first time in her 12 years she had tried to make a cake from scratch, and to be honest, it wasn't exactly an aesthetic triumph. The cake was . . . well, lumpy. And the frosting was bitter, as if she had run out of sugar or something. Which, of course, she had.
Imagine
And then there was the way the kitchen looked. Imagine a huge blender filled with all the fixings for chocolate cake. Now imagine that the blender is turned on. High speed. With the lid off. Get the idea?
But Cindy wasn't thinking about the mess. She had created something, a veritable phoenix of flour and sugar rising out of the kitchen clutter. She was anxious for her parents to return home from their date so she could present her anniversary gift to them. She turned off the kitchen lights and waited excitedly in the darkness. When at last she saw the flash of the car headlights, she positioned herself in the kitchen doorway.
Her parents tried to slip in quietly, but Cindy would have none of that. She flipped on the lights dramatically and trumpeted: "Ta-daaa!" She gestured grandly toward the kitchen table, where a slightly off-balance two-layer chocolate cake awaited their inspection.
But her mother's eyes never made it all the way to the table. "Just look at this mess!" she moaned. "How many times have I talked to you about cleaning up after yourself?"
"But Mom, I was only..."
Look at the table
"I should make you clean this up right now, but I'm too tired to stay up with you to make sure you get it done right," her mother said. "So you'll do it first thing in the morning."
"Honey," Cindy's father interjected gently, "take a look at the table."
"I know -- it's a mess," his wife said coldly. "The whole kitchen is a disaster. I can't stand to look at it." She stormed up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
For a few moments Cindy and her father stood silently, neither one knowing what to say. At last she looked up at him, her eyes moist and red. "She never saw the cake," she said.
Not the only one
Unfortunately, Cindy's mother isn't the only parent who suffers from Situational Glaucoma -- the occasional inability to see the forest for the trees. From time to time we all allow ourselves to be blinded to issues of long-term significance by stuff that seems important right now -- but isn't.