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I was up very late last night, and later still the night before. This is bad enough on any Saturday night, since a well-run Sunday-morning liturgy requires that everyone involved be on their toes. I was flat-footed, at best. The stiflingly humid weather didn't help matters...just breathing was a chore, and an alb is not as cool a garment as one might think. And to cap it all off, today was the St. Anne's parish picnic. Parish picnics involve socializing. Socializing involves conversation. Conversation, at least quality conversation, involves the brain. This is where I run into difficulty. When I'm tired, I babble. Not baby babble...bizarre, rambling, stream of consciousness, "what on earth is he saying?" sort of babble. When forced to socialize on too little sleep I often wake up mid-sentence, hip-deep in an intense explanation of why my kitchen sink can't possibly be the capital of France. It's like I'm drunk...drunk with sleepiness. Heaven only knows what I told the good parishioners of St. Anne's. Some of them probably now think my family are broccoli farmers and that I recently changed my name from Pink Floyd to Aaron Orear because I was sick of people asking for autographs. This from The Toronto Star... The Canada Revenue Agency has written off almost $2.4 billion in taxes owed but never paid after an internal audit found there was little likelihood of ever collecting the money. Well that's not going to make people want to pay their taxes, now is it? |
