I met with my very favorite nun again today despite the fact that the world was conspiring against me.
At 7:01 am I pushed the button to open the garage so A&P could catch the bus. Nothing happened. After pounding on the button, still nothing happened. Tim came to the rescue. Thank goodness we can pull the red hanging emergency rope to get out of the garage! It came off in his hand.
By this time, A&P were on the bus and me and Tim were standing in the garage in our robes trying to figure out how to get out-like rats in a one box maze. A few bolts removed here and there and we were free until I couldn't find my keys and I was further delayed. Do you ever wonder if the universe is delaying you so that you don't get wiped out by an asteroid or something while you're waiting at a stop light? No such thing fell in P-burg today, but it could have and I made it to work alive.
After all that, I made it to see the nun too. I asked her if God broke the door and hid my keys. She is so cool and calm. It's probably because she doesn't have children. Although, she does live with other nuns and apparently nuns can be kind of tough to live with. I may have her beat because I'm certain that nuns don't leave underwear in the middle of the bathroom floor for two weeks until the other nuns flip out and demand it be removed or there will be "sanctions" from the "management."
I'm also certain that A&P are funnier than those nuns. We've had a running commentary with A&P for the last week and a half about our trip to the post office to file our passport applications. Next to us at the counter was a lady mailing a very big box. Her parcel was packed into a giant box that had shipped Kleenex at one point in time. She answered appropriately when the postal service representative inquired as to the presence of explosives, liquids or other illegal substances. Good for her but it got Peter to thinking, why was she shipping all that Kleenex. We roared and laughed and pointed at him and made him feel small whilst we hooted. "Seriously," we scolded, "it's the shipping box!"
Indignant, Peter replied cooly, "How do you know that? Maybe she bought some Kleenex online from Amazon, doesn't like it and is returning it."
We chortled some more.
"You don't know that there isn't Kleenex in there! Maybe she has a relative with a cold."
I laughed so hard that I snorted. (I hate it when that happens. I think I did that at work today, but not in front of the nun.)
The Kleenex debate is renewed almost daily. Peter's still convinced the lady was shipping Kleenex, but maybe he's right. Regardless, we still whoop and wail it's so funny.
Nuns laugh, but I bet they don't snort. If the garage doesn't open tomorrow and my keys are misplaced, I'm not going to try so hard to leave. I'll curl up with some Kleenex and call it a day in case the asteroid is coming.