Who knew weeds in the garden would lead to a spiritual awakening and a seat on the Vestry. In fact, the weeds are in my mind more than the mysteries of Christianity. I mean, weeds you can understand. They need to be taken out, eradicated, made to become like the parrot*.
What am I babbling about? I had an X-COM meeting (not as thrilling as the X-Men at all) which is the Exec. Comm. of the Vestry. It was okay and over by 10ish. Then an extra meeting to find out about a check that was or was not sent to the Garden Club. End result: Home at 11:45.
And I skipped Novo music also. This could drive one to drink! In fact, I had a beer when I got home. Blood sugar or not. I earned it.
Interlude. . . . .
I just thought I saw an ant on the shelf, and in my frenzy to identify and eradicate it, I fell off the bed and rammed my right thumb. It is red and hurts. I am sure this is what Albert Schweitzer thought would happen if you tried to kill a living thing. Al - you are right! Or, maybe: Al - Right!!
I need sleep despite the fact that the bedroom is hot and I am not sleepy.
Nighty night.
*Parrot refers to the Monty Python skit about the Dead Parrot. Google it if you don't know.
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