Don't Mess

Three Dog Night

“A brand new version of Pages is available” it keeps saying, and I keep tapping “not now.” It took me this long to get used to this version of Pages after years of using MS Word, and I’ve read the scathing reviews of the brand new version of Pages, so there ain’t no way. For one thing, which is the signal right off, the new version doesn’t seem to have that stupid “Inspector” feature where you set your margins and line spacing and stuff, and I’m used to it now, so I’d be lost from the get go. Any preacher creature who can’t remember the Hebrew alphabet sure as fire doesn’t need to risk an all new word processing program.  

For some reason the cursor won’t come on this morning, which is right annoying.

Yesterday was enormous fun at church, the best, as always. We baptized little Esteban, there was a decent crowd considering that half the congregation were getting the last taste of summer away on holiday for Labor Day weekend and the other half were here and there at football games kicking off the CFB season. 

No reason to avoid it, I felt terrible, terrible, woke up very early Sunday morning feeling queasy, took a nap the hour before church when I should have been taking that last look at my sermon, muddled through both services, and left immediately from the vesting room after 10:30 worship and the baptism, without even going into Battin Hall to greet Esteban’s family, for which I apologize. Arriving home, straight upstairs to bed black shirt and all, sans collar and collar buttons but black shirt and all. Slept ‘til four p.m. back to bed, slept ‘til nine p.m. back to bed, slept ‘til two a.m. back to bed, slept ‘til three a.m. With all the perspiring and drenching my clothes, it was a Three PJ Night. How am I now? Too iffy to meet Robert for our walk, which we’ve changed to Monday and Wednesday. Why tell this? Because at church yesterday Dan told people I wasn’t feeling well, which I did not mean to have told, then shadowed me like a catcher in a Pentecostal church waiting for me to fall out slain in the spirit! But thanks, Dan.

That was Dan standing behind the pulpit during my sermon!

Ice tea instead of coffee this morning. Linda made it for Malinda, who always comes to Sunday dinner with us, but she had the same ailment as me/I so the tea wasn’t drunk. 

Neither am I: just ornery. Don’t mess with me.

W