Phyllis rolled out of the sack early. If we had cows, she would have been in time for the first milking.
Instead, she had to take care of the kids' dog (they were in the Black Hills on vacation) when the mercury was hovering around 90 degrees at 7 a.m.
She found her curled up (the dog, not Phyllis) in a place where there was no breeze. She put her in the cool house, fed her and returned to find me snoozing away when I should have been getting ready for church.
But not to worry!
We still had time for her to watch a segment of "Meet the Press," to get mad at the Administration again and to get to the Monastery for the 10 o'clock mass where all of our cares would be forgotten in the solitude there.
When we got to the Monastery, we were told that the morning services were cancelled because of a Jubilee. Could we come back for the 2:30 mass honoring Sister Matthew, our pew mate?
What to do? We could wait till afternoon or go to another church. But we still hadn't had breakfast!
We then went to the restaurant (with less than an hour to order and eat) and found it very busy. But we took a chance that we would be served in time to make it at 11:00 a.m. After all, the church was just a few blocks away.
Wouldn't you know!
The restaurant customers included a number of our friends who didn't know we were in a hurry. Needless to say, they stopped to talk.
I gobbled down my biscuits and gravy while they visited. I also burned myself with a hot cup of coffee, but we made it with six minutes to spare.
So much for a leisurely Sunday breakfast!
We got to the church just as services began, and that's when I discovered why we opted to go to the quiet, peaceful Monastery!
Now don't get me wrong; I like little kids, but I'd been away from them too long. It was like going to a mass at recess!
Apparently I was the only one who minded, though; the others were used to the noises made by the tiny tykes. I blamed the cacophony on my new hearing aids.
However, that was not the end of the day!
On the way home, Phyllis said we should fill up the car because the foment in the Middle East could push the price of gasoline beyond three dollars. So we went to a station with one of those new fangled pumps.
Before we were through though, we had to push the "Help" button which didn't do my morale any good. I should be able to handle those mechanical monsters without having a young gal come to our rescue.
I'm a predictable type. I want things to be organized so there is no need for a "Help" button.
But this was not a typical Sunday, so the "Help" was necessary!
© 2006 Robert F. Karolevitz