Nobodys Perfect
Hello Everyone,
I just thought about writing about something that has been bothering me all week,before I go to bed. Instead of boring you with what happened I'll just write it as a moral type story.
Once upon a time there was a water-bearer in India who had two large pots, each hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pot full of water in his master's house.