On Sunday morning right before church started -- you know, that place where goodness, civility, and love for your fellow human being is theoretically the name of the game -- someone who was very tan and smiling asked me, "How was your spring vacation?" Before I could remember my location, or turn on that all-important self-censoring switch, I said, "Spring vacation? WHAT VACATION? I HAVE A JOB. NO WAIT, I HAVE TWO JOBS. AND A CHILD, TWO CATS AN OLD DECREPIT RABBIT AND BASEMENT WHERE I'M SURE JIMMY HOFFA HAS SET UP RESIDENCE. ADD TO THAT THE FACT THAT IT'S FINALS WEEK, I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN MONTHS, AND I HAVE FOUR PERFORMANCES, EXAMS AND GRADES TO TURN IN, NOT TO MENTION FINDING 30 FACTS ABOUT THE CIVIL WAR IN SOME 8TH GRADE FICTIONAL NOVEL BY FRIDAY. I DON'T GET A VACATION AND HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."
I'm certain my response would have failed the "What Would Jesus Do" test, but I'm thinking that if Jesus had spent the day healing the sick, raising the dead, turning water into wine and loaves into fishes (I know, I know) and THEN somebody complained that he didn't show up the night before to play Bingo with the Disciples, he might have had a similar response.
My desk calendar currently shows Monday, March 17th. One office cubicle plant has already died, and another one is looking nervous. It's been that kind of a
YEAR.But things just might ( hopefully may be) calming down a wee little bit.
Shhhh, don't tell, OK?