The straw that would break the principal’s back: You take one end, I’ll take the other

The principal at the school where my wife works is a very busy woman. No, you are a very busy woman. I am a very busy woman. The principal at my wife's school is a chainsaw-juggling, plate-spinning, tap-dancing one-armed wallpaper hanger on a skateboard, on a deadline and under severe scrutiny.

With enthusiasm and style, she's doing God's work. But with fewer resources.

So it should be our pleasure to share the burden of the straws that might otherwise break her strong back. For instance, last week she had to take time to diplomaticaly answer this email from a University of Chicago administrator in charge of "community engagement and neighborhood health partnerships":

Principal K—,

My name is S—. I work with CPHP and would like your permission to do a celery tasting at your school March 19th?

Hold the celery, Miss K—. But keep sending us your straws. We'll dispose of them properly.