It’s like Jesus is coming to dinner and you want to make him something delicious to eat, something that will really wow him, so you get to work putting it together. And you think you’re concentrating pretty hard on the meal until you look into the mixing bowl and it turns out to be a kind of porridge of yogurt and scrambled eggs and wilted lettuce and coffee grounds.
Or it’s like you have an audience with the king, and finally you will get to tell him everything — all about how you’ve been mistreated, but how you’re a good subject anyway, and you’re wondering when he’s going to fix the roads, and also you want to tell him what a beautiful house he has. You’ve been thinking about this all year, making mental notes of things to mention when you finally get see him. Except when you actually get in there all you can think of to say is, “Oh, hi. Well, my lower back hurts. Um, how are you?”