I haven’t been writing much lately because I’ve been really busy.  The pastor’s been out of town.   He’s been working, like, nearly full-time recently.  He seems to think this deserves a 4-day trip to a pastoral retreat.  I assume it’s pastoral in both senses, but I didn’t make that joke with him.  He basically said “see you Friday” and left.

The whole preschool for low income teen moms thing is still coming together.  The people in charge of it are terribly organized.  He’s terribly organized.  So I’ve had a steady stream of people in my office asking me things like “what’s the phone number for the people who repaired the stove?”  I have no idea.  I didn’t schedule that appointment.  I  didn’t pay that bill.   You know what I did?  I opened the front door to let the guy in the building.  As best as I could tell he didn’t commit a crime while he was here, so I didn’t feel especially obligated to get a good description.

Before the pastor left, he asked me to run off and collate–okay, he said “correlate,” but he meant collate–the employee handbook.  The handbook’s about 150 pages.  I needed to make seven copies.  A few minutes after I’d set the photocopier to work on this, one of the girls from the day care came in to run some copies.  I told her it’d be at least a half hour until I was done copying the handbook.  She stomped off as if I’d told her she couldn’t use the copier because I was running off pictures of my tits.  This whole “no, Churchrat, the day care won’t cause you any additional work” thing is bullshit.

All my paperclips are gone.  Where did they, oh gentle reader?  Where?  And my interior door keys, which I helpfully left on my desk but which have not been returned.

To be clear, I don’t mind the day care.  I don’t resent the day care.  I don’t even mind throwing in a little extra effort to get what will surely be a great ministry up and going.  What I do mind is the assumption that if enough people pretend like it’s not extra work, the extra work I’m doing will somehow disappear.  You know?

Like my paperclips.

Damnit.

I’m drinking my coffee out of a straw this morning.  My sister’s wedding’s in nine days.  I’m a little competitive.  I don’t want, however, to win the brownest teeth competition, but I am unwilling to give up coffee.  Ugh.  I’m so Harvey Levin right now.

This is weird, yes?

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