Bloodshot eyes and aching head.
Forget church, forget that religion
This old bitch is staying in bed."
For the first time in what feels like forever, I am not working on a Sunday. Since I've been denied the chance to hang with my heathen co-workers I decided I should create a worthy worship service here at home.
First, the dogs and I had opening exercises, which consisted of throwing their toys around and watching them leap, run and then slip on the wood floor. Always fun. AND good exercise! Organized religion would be so much better if they let dogs come to church.
(Not actually my dogs. Mine are cuter.)
We then worshipped the God of Cleanliness by offering up the soiled clothing of our lives to be washed clean and refreshed for the coming week.
The sacrament! I couldn't forget that! I got down my holy French Press and prepared a truly divine cup of coffee. I gave thanks that I had been inspired to pick up more fat-free half-and-half at the store AND that I found such a deal on hazelnut flavoring. I am so blessed!
For the lesson, I browsed the blogs and came up with this gem from Runtu. It expounds on the question that has plagued me: "But what happens when your conscience conflicts with the counsel of your Church leaders? What do you do when your conscience tells you that what they are asking is wrong?" The whole article gave this shallow brain of mine something to chew on.
For the closing song, I worshipped at the feet of Trent Reznor once more. As my sister said to me after this very concert, "I have been to heaven and Trent Reznor is God." Hallelujah!
Then I chased the dogs around with the vacuum and went back to bed. I love Sundays!