MONDAY DIARY: ALMOST EXCRUCIATINGLY TRUE STORIES: PROOF OF AGE

So my formerly known as DRE (Director of Religious Education) now know as my PCL (Parish Catechetical Leader) or Pickle and I went to a diocesan meeting.  At it, a representative from a diocesan office informed us that there were materials to take home to our parishes from the diocese and that it would save the diocese A LOT of money if we would just take them home with us instead of them having to mail them.  

The meeting went longer than we had anticipated so we needed to sneak quietly out.  At the back of the meeting room we loaded up our arms with the materials to be taken back to St. Sebastian.  They were right.  Mailing this stuff would have cost a small fortune.  It was awkward balancing everything on our walk out my car and it was only when we got close to my car that I realized I had made a tactical  error.

The only thing to do was to try to shift everything over to one arm and knee in order to dig into my pocket.

Of course.  Right?  Murphy's Law and all that?  So everything is shifted to the other knee.

So you get the ritual . . .

Two and half hours.  Says something for that neighborhood that nobody took an abandoned, unlocked, running car.  Or it says something about my car . . .