I wanted to attend a potluck and discussion of the report of the ELCA Task Force on sexuality being held by fellow students at the seminary downt the block. But, I was going to be at work, so I couldn't cook for the potluck. So, I thought, I'll just bring the famous tomato-basil-garlic-n-sausage pizza from Pompei, eh? I'll just leave plenty early, drive on over there, get the pizza, and be in the south end in plenty of time to reheat it and make it to the gathering.
That was the plan.
The reality was that traffic in the West Side neighborhoods had ground to a half, courtesy of about an inch of snow. It took me an hour and a quarter to go 3.1 miles from the Conservatory to the pizza place; and it took another hour to make it to the downtown post office (and then 20 minutes to get from downtown to Hyde Park). By the time I got home, the pizza was cold, the potluck/discussion was essentially over, and I'd been dealing with a badly overfilled bladder for way too long.
About a dozen times a minute, I thought one of three things:
+ OK, God, how about a break here? All I wanted was a little fellowship with my fellow students...is that so bad?
+ Well, the pizza can be reheated.
+ God, I hate this town some days.
The good news out of all this? I got to microwave the pizza and share it with roommate Tim, have a delightful conversation with him, and still had time for coffee with a sponsee. I made it home undented, undamaged, and with gas to spare. How bad can that be?
In short, it was a cat-and-mouse day - after a poster I saw a long time ago, with a very small mouse looking up at a very large, and saying, "You're the answer to my prayers." And then muttering under his breath, the mouse continued: "You're not what I prayed for, but apparently you're the answer."
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Seems to be that kind of thing going round, Steve.
My wife was due for a cortisone shot for a bad shoulder yesterday at 9 AM, so we dutifully rushed through breakfast, got the dog her bladder break, zipped over to the hospital and checked in with reception.
I had counted on maybe an hour or two, as I had work i needed to get to.
At 11 AM, Joyce got to see the doctor, and was out by 11:40. Oh well, so we drove to a Vietnamese restaurant about 15 minutes away for lunch before she had to get back to work herself, but on getting out of the car, discovered that she had left her x-rays back at the hospital. Nothing for it--back we went.
Got to lunch at 12:15-ish, Joyce to work for 1-ish, and when i came home, the dog looks at me with a "well, it's about bloddy time!" expression. I got down to work about 2 PM: at 2:15, the piano tuner, who we'd been expecting for 2:45, rang the doorbell.
I managed a bit of housework and some phone calls, at least...
God may or may not be smiling, but the Buddha most certainly is grinning from ear to ear.
Peter
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