When I came in this morning, the church bells across the street were ringing happily. I like to think they are thanking God for getting us all through another night and allowing us to see another beautiful day.
I met J.C. coming in, and she commented how pretty the bells sounded. She said that was why she always came in a few minutes late each day, so she could hear the bells. I quickly agreed, thinking that it surely couldn’t be the sleeping in late, absurdly thinking that eating breakfast was important, watching TV just five minutes too long, the unexpected bowel movement that crept up on me, spending an extra few minutes admiring my potato physique in the mirror, or the traffic through the three construction zones I have to drive through. It has to be to hear the bells that brings me in late every morning. Yeah, that’s it.
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