Friday morning was quite dramatic. A profanity filled, epic drama.

The characters in this play? A wash cloth, running water, a missing shirt, and yours truly.

It’s 6:00 AM in Mason, Ohio, a middle aged (yet quite virile) man prepares for work. Our protagonist has to meet his dad at 8:00 AM so he starts to get dressed. Today it’s blue jeans, boots, undershirt and Bastion Polo, the official uniform of Bastion Realty.

Our hero gets fully dressed with the exception of the polo. Seems like he’s a little behind with the laundry and his shirt is no where to be found.

Must be downstairs in the laundry room.

As is his custom, our dedicated businessman starts the morning ritual. Shave, brush teeth, and wash face.

While waiting for the water to get hot and distraught by the missing work shirt, our leading man decides to venture down to the laundry room and find the shirt.

Nothing hanging on the rack. Nothing in the dryer. Nothing in the washer. Weird. Our lead has a handful of these shirts, where in the world could they be?

While heading back upstairs our main character decides to stop in the living room to read before he gets the writing done for the day.

The reading begins, only there’s something on his mind. Seems like he’s forgetting something.

“Oh my God! The water! It’s still running!”

He throws the book, sprints upstairs, rushes into the bathroom and to his horror finds 3″ of water on the bathroom floor. He rushes to the linen closet and grabs every single towel in the house. The cursing begins.

Frantically he turns off the water, pulls out the wash cloth, opens all of the doors and drawers in the deluged vanity and begins the cleanup.

The curse words continue. The ugly inner dialogue begins.

“What is wrong with me? How could I be so stupid?”

Twenty minutes later he begins the journey back downstairs to the laundry room to begin washing and drying these water logged towels. Still cursing at himself.

Only this nightmare is not over. While transporting his baskets of shame to the laundry, he hears a steady drip coming from the ceiling fan in the family room.

Did you ever wonder what happens to water in the bathroom once it starts to accumulate? That’s right, it finds its way into the cavity between the floor and the ceiling below.

Almost crying, our desperate victim is starting to panic. “What do I do now? Should I tear it out now and let the water run out? Will it turn to mold? How much is our insurance deductible?”

Our sad, pathetic, excuse for a human, begins to question his fitness for life. Does he even have the basic common sense to avoid ruining his house? And he thinks he can run a business? And care for clients? How in the world did he raise his kids? What an idiot.

Now this story might seem a little exaggerated. I assure you it’s not. This character was me on Friday morning.

No joke, the dialogue and the cursing were real, only the cursing was too graphic for this blog. All because of a simple mistake.

Unfortunately, this is the kind of inner dialogue that goes on regularly. Not only with me, but with most people.

My entire life has been one of dealing with this inner voice.

Reflecting on the Friday Fiasco, I realize how destructive our thoughts can be. After a day or two I realized that this is a subject I need to address in my personal and professional life.

My mind needs a reset.

Yesterday’s blog, Spiritual Warfare, gives us a glimpse of how important it is to protect our minds.

The dialogue with myself on Friday was not pretty, or something that I’m proud of, but ultimately it was not initiated by me. It was initiated by my lesser self influenced by the The Evil One.

As I continue to practice the craft of storytelling, I am more and more convinced of the power of words. Not just the written word, but the ones I hear inside my head.

The choice is clear, listen to the enemy, or listen to The One who loves me.

One thinks I’m an incompetent fool. The other thinks I’m so special he sacrificed Everything for me.