Naughty Jester

Some of us spend our days willfully creating meaning out of the ennui and absurdity of our lives. Others of us prefer to lose ourselves in the minutia, the relentless momentum, of our daily drudgery.

The question that I most often find myself angsting over is, “Does Tiger wash his own balls?” I mean after he lands in the ruff, gets all dirty and needs to clean up, who washes his spheroids?

I can’t help but notice that nowadays he seems a bit off. He can’t seem to get every facet of his game working in unison. For instance, on the day his long woods are producing results, he simply can’t get it on those carefully trimmed greens. And when he finally manages to get it in the hole consistently, he muffs his approach shots.

To some extent, we all suffer similar travails. We all struggle to get the cylinders of our lives hitting in concert. Sometimes our relationships rock while our careers flounder. Or our creativity blossoms while our relationships flop. It is a rare and joyous occasion when we manage to pull everything together in sweet harmony.

What question do you angst over?