Bless me Father, for I have sinned

In Absurdlandia, Animals, Hautvoir, proto drafts on February 16, 2016 at 9:04 am

I fell asleep on the couch. Woke up after midnight, and made my way to bed. Almost eight years into the relationship, my dog is a true and trusted companion. However, when she stirs above my head at the first timid blush of morn, often, often Father, I yearn for a dog-less day off. One in which – should I wake at the first timid stirrings of day – I could roll over, find yet another comfy spot on the pillow and s-l-e-e-p  i-n. Sloth, I believe. One of the seven deadly sins. Chalk one up for me.

Or visit another place for a few days. A place where no one would show up at my door unexpectedly and say: “oh, you’re having lunch. Sorry, I’ll run. If you could just take a look at this letter and tell me what they want this time?” Impatience? A sin? Not a deadly one. Wrath? Yes. I stick to deep annoyance these days. No wrath on this week’s slate.

This morning, I find Sloth the more appealing of the two anyway.   Lust: some other time, if circumstances allow. Pride: meh, Father, Lucifer rides on my left shoulder. A fact established in early childhood. Let’s not bother with the obvious.

I’m missing two. Ah, thank you wikipedia: greed and gluttony. I’ll pass for now.

So. A mindset. Call it a pattern, a grid, a chemical imprint. Yours from another culture, mine from the puritanical strain of Catholicism . One in which nuns in itchy woolen garb warned their pupils against wearing patent leather shoes (your legs might reflect in them – try using a patent leather shoe as a mirror. Let me know if it works).

Nothing fancy or kinky or outrageous about my current yearnings, Father Confessor. A stretch of easy  sailing in pleasant light winds. A companionable presence I don’t have to walk in a cold and dirty stretch of property. Simple, simple things. Do they make for interesting story? Maybe not. Blood-pounding times in the confessional? For sure not.  But as a five-minute version of endless Eden? I’ll take the ten-minute supersize edition.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Ghost in the Machine. Amen.

P.S. outside the confessional: maybe one of the characters can break away to a nearby town, and… and… find a glorious bookstore, and… and… true love, and Health, Happiness, Prosperity, Abundance for All, and… and so on.


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