My week started with me getting a call from Brother W to give a talk this Sunday. You know me, if it's from the bishopric I've been taught to never say no. I put off writing my talk the whole week because, hey, I'm a busy girl trying to stay in shape and find a job AND study up on the art of publishing. It's a lot of hard work. I did get a small job babysitting 9-11 some days and some random evenings for a lady with three kids. The youngest, S, is adorable!
I should have known that procrastination would have its penalties, what I didn't know is that they'd be this severe.
I knew that a stomach virus has been going around the entire west coast for a while, but for some reason I thought I'd be safe from it. Nope. Friday night I was waking up every hour on the hour to wring out my stomach of something it clearly didn't like. Earlier that night I had made chocolate chip cookies and had only one, count them, ONE cookie before feeling ill while my mom had five and was fine. For the next 24 hours I couldn't look at something with chocolate in it without wanting to gag.
For a while I thought I was safe from giving my talk on Sunday. Wrong again, by Saturday afternoon it became fairly obvious that I wasn't going to be sick enough to miss church. So I cobbled together a few quotes and ideas about following the Willingness of the Lord and passed them through mom until I felt ready.
You'd think that'd be the end of it. Nope. I convinced myself that church started at 9:30, double checking that online Sunday morning I found out that it was actually at 9:00. Rushing to get ready I ran out the door with all my bags to discover frost on my car. I scraped and silently grumbled about being late to a meeting where I was supposed to give a talk and then when I reached for the car handle I realized one very important thing. Turning on the ignition may help you scrape off ice, but locking your door does not get you to church any faster.
A kind neighbor, a locksmith, and a lot of frustration later, I was walking into the meeting a whole hour late. The bishop decided to be nice to me and let me speak for about ten minutes anyway. I was so jumbled and spoke so fast it was a wonder anyone got anything out of my talk. I got a lot of, "there were good messages" and "good job" afterwords. That unfortunately doesn't say anything. You're required to be polite at my church.
I did find a English tutor job for someone who's taking their GED on our bulletin board though. And I met C again. C is a guy I've met all of twice and went on one date before leaving for three months. I had to ask his name again because he changed his hair and I didn't recognize him. Oops. He's working 50 hours a week and going to school full-time. I wish he'd give me some of his hours.
All in all, a very adventurous weekend.
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