Can it get worse after yesterday?
You bet it can.
I found out I have another Church Constitution meeting tonight.
I knew about it already, actually. It was right there in my date book (which records “dates” in the sense of “calendar dates,” needless to say, not dates in the sense of “I’ll pick you up at 7:00 for dinner and a movie.”). But I had the idea that it was a tentative scheduling, likely to be cancelled due to conflict. No such luck.
If I were a Catholic I’d cry out to some minor saint, “HOW MUCH CAN ONE MAN BE EXPECTED TO ENDURE?”
Not a major saint, of course. I’d be embarrassed to bother a big saint with a little gripe like this one.
Some minor, mostly forgotten saint. Somebody like St. Olaf, who was patron saint to a country that went Protestant out from under him.
Of course St. Olaf might not like me because I write books about Erling Skjalgsson, his lifelong enemy.
But I figure he’s probably so neglected these days that he appreciates any attention he can get.
Then again, from what I read of his life, I figure he’s probably not really a saint anyway. He’s probably still in Purgatory.
Wait, I don’t believe in Purgatory either.
I have a meeting to go to.