A string walks into a bar. Climbs up on a stool and asks for a beer. Bartender says: “Hey, are you a string?” String says: “Yes, I’m afraid so.” Bartender says: “Sorry, we don’t serve strings here.”
Soooooo, string gets up, walks out and goes to another bar. Alas. Same response as the first. No strings allowed.
After several more failed efforts, string scoots into a back alley. He fluffs up his ends and ties himself into a great big knot. He boldly walks into another bar.
Bartender says: “Hey, are you a string?” String says: “No, I’m a frayed knot.”
At this time of year, it doesn’t take much for me to feel a little like the string. My edges are easily frayed and I get all tied up in knots. In other words, I, too, am a frayed knot.
Portrait of our frayed friend thanks to Getty Images