Getting Even

After The D's barrage of Carol Criticism yesterday, I thought of a funny trick to play. I woke up at 9:00 this morning to the sound of clomping men's dress shoes. I got out of bed to see what was going on. The D was sitting in his throne recliner wearing his tennis shoes. I asked him if there was someone else in the house. Those were definitely not tennis shoe footsteps. He looked at me like I was crazy.

Then he asked me if we could go to church. I really didn't feel like it, but being the sweet, selfless daughter that I am, I told him we would. I had to jump in the shower and put on makeup and get dressed. I left my hair 'til last. I guess I forgot to put conditioner on my hair because when I took the towel off my head, my hair was a huge, crazy, tangled mess.

I had a little flash of inspiration. I left my hair exactly like it was. Then I announced as I walked into the throne room that I was ready to go. I wish you could have seen the look of horror on his face. He was speechless. Finally, he managed to say, "Get that thing off!" He thought it was a wig. So I had a good laugh and headed back to the bathroom to tame my mane. A few minutes later, I told him I was ready and he seemed really relieved to seem my hair looking a little less like Tina Turner's. I asked him if that was better and he said it was. So I took that as a compliment.

Out of six hymns, I only knew four. The music man needs to rein it in. Old people and lapsed Baptists don't like new hymns that span three octaves. The D needs me to find the page in the hymnal and we use the same one so I can point to the words. I usually like to sing alto, especially when the sopranos need the range of Maria Callas. But since there was a substite organ player who missed more notes that I do, I sang the melody. I noticed The D sang more when I was screeching out the soprano part. Since the people on the three rows in front of us were pushing 100 and I figured they had some hearing impairment, I belted it out, pretty loudly. Besides, The D can't hear very well.

We had communion today, which for Baptists is called The Lord's Supper. They only do it once every two or three months. It's a very solemn ritual. The pastor was moved to tears. I'm ashamed to admit that I was having carnal thoughts during the service. Don't judge me, though. Remember my ADD. Besides, I resisted texting - that should count for something. The cracker was rancid, but I guess I deserved that. I was ready for the tiny cup of grape juice.

Ok, better close now. Daddy's chomping at the bit to go to the Good House. First I have to check something on client's kids' returns, and then I can take him. And enjoy the beautiful sunshine.