I had plans for today: sleep in until 7, be at church by 8, and afterwards head to the Factory for a few extra hours of work.
Instead, the birds woke me about an hour before sunrise. After a quiet winter, the cacophony is atrocious: squawks and chirrups, with only a few warbling notes to add a pleasant sound. The birds grew louder because they flew closer. By the time I crawled out of bed, there were grackles and redwing blackbirds having a party in the backyard.
Somehow I managed to make myself a pot of coffee – sleepwalking. I don’t remember doing it, but when I crawled out of a bed again, the pot was still warm. And the house was cold, because on Sunday I have to manually turn up the thermostat. (By that late hour, the temperature hovered at a balmy 58 degrees.)
I was too late for my own parish, so I drove to a neighboring town for noon Mass. The church was packed, but I found a spot where I could see and hear. It’s Palm Sunday, which meant we played our roles in the Passion Play. As we called out for the release of Barabbas, the toddler in my pew added a modern touch by wailing “Ge’ my book!” and “Nyuuu!”
His mother and older sibling informed me afterward that no, he wasn’t two yet – but obviously very, very close. “It’s a tough age,” she sighed, and all I could say was “Good luck to you!”
Afterward, I decided to have brunch at the neighborhood diner. A few cups of (hot) java later, I was ready to head to the Factory.
Except for a lack of keys. I imagine I left them at work.
So this afternoon I’ve been reading and enjoying the sun. Entirely against my will!