Two days ago I got in my car at Acme and glanced at my mileage: 66600. (!)
I tried to drive as fast as I could to get a 1 to pop up at the end. Then last night, after I picked Megan up at the church meeting, I glanced down again: 66660! By the time we got home, it was at 66666. I never take note of the numbers on my odometer. This just made me feel like I am being haunted by demons.
I received my reply back from the priest, and he accepted my compromise. I felt so good about it, until I realized that I have just signed my daughter up to starve herself from 10 PM Friday through 6:30 PM Saturday. and, to make matters worse, since there has been a choice offered to the group, no participant in their right mind is going to choose 30 hours of fasting over volunteering at the soup kitchen and then hanging out talking about it all afternoon. So I don't even know who else will participate in this fast anyway. I can't help feeling that I've been duped.
Then I got a sub call last night and had to turn it down. I absolutely hate turning them down, but I knew if I worked, even for the morning, that there would be no way that I would get a thing done towards making this house even somewhat presentable. There are stacks everywhere, pet hair everywhere, and just general dirt. I also have to pack up the boxes of Christmas things, and get them out of the basement area for our houseguests. And I have to clean the basement bathroom, which hasn't been done properly since the sump pit backed up through the tub drain a year ago. I've cleaned out the toilet and wiped things down, but even that's not been done since August.
But for now, I have to get Megan to school. Brian is harassing me about his chorus uniform, I guess today is the school show. And I have to get my banking ready, since I am allowing myself just the one trip out of the house this morning before I start to clean. And the stair vacuum is broken. Blame it all on the sixes.
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