Sunday morning and I am not making pancakes or even so much as an egg sandwich and Mr. Moon is determined to get out into the garden NOW before the heat gets to be 10,110 degrees. (See Ms. Moon's heat index for explanation.)
Ah, the guilt, the guilt!
I need to get out there too and I should have made that man an egg sandwich. It's so easy for me but sometimes my rebellious spirit says why doesn't he make me an egg sandwich but the thought literally does not occur to him.
I was thinking about what I said about the Catholic wedding in that post last night and I did go to a Catholic wedding once when I was a teenager and I sat next to my across-the-street neighbor, a boy two years younger than I was and the kneeling and the Latin and the bells and the incense and the wine and the wafer got us to giggling and it was one of those horrible situations where if one tiny thing happens you are going to bust out in the biggest laughter of your life, laugh so hard that tears pour down your eyes, even as you are thinking to yourself oh god, oh god, this is horrible, this is the worst thing I have ever done and we couldn't look at each other and we were afraid, quite literally to breathe because if we had done more than take tiny sips of air that horrible, inappropriate laughter would have come out of us like an explosion and everyone, from the bride and the groom to the PRIEST IN HIS ROBES would have looked at us with horror and we would have had to roll ourselves down the aisle, too weakened with laughing to use our legs.
We managed, somehow, to contain ourselves. I wonder if he remembers that.
All right. I'm going to go make an egg sandwich and then go weed.
I ain't got no sermon today whatsoever and according to the (no) rules of the Church of the Batshit Crazy, that is just fine. Sermons may arise on a Tuesday night just as often as on a Sunday morning.
But let me ask you- did you ever do that? Have to literally shut down in order not to laugh at the most inappropriate time? Do you still remember the pain, the way your entire body wanted to let it out? Do you? Did you? Tell me.