Sunday, June 10, 2007

Sunday School, more or less

I tried to get out of Sunday School, but it didn't work. I floated a trial balloon by my husband last night and it pretty much bombed. I told him that it made my skin crawl to think of having to go hear about ways to witness. He frowned and scrunched up his face, which meant I was going to be coming to Sunday School in the morning, at least if I wanted to preserve the peace.

So I went to Sunday School this morning, albeit half an hour late. That was only partly my fault. I definitely took too long of a shower, dawdled over e-mail, and took my time with my hair. But it wasn't my fault that my son was really hard to get out of bed, or that I spilled apple juice all over my clothes and had to go change. I got there at 9:35 and missed the bit where we had to summarize the gospel on our little worksheet. Good thing ... mine probably would have read,

"Ha, ha! Lucky me! You poor bastard!"

Well, OK, maybe not "bastard". That probably would have freaked out Mrs. Winters pretty badly, because I don't think she has ever said anything worse than "darn" in her entire life. But still, that's the basic sentiment.

Why, again, do I want to collar strangers on the street and tell them this? I forget ...