
Sunday mornings have been peaceful the past four years. With Dad in Bishopric meetings, I've had the house to myself and quite liked it. His release brought an abrupt end to my so called 'do what I chose' Sunday morning life.
In no uncertain terms he says at 8am, we are to leave fifteen minutes early, making sure to get our usual seat at church. That's fine for him, but I'm busy making a gourmet breakfast (Void of thanks, that was delicious), flower arranging, checking the garden, etc,etc.
The announcement is made again, from his lounge chair on the deck at 9am, as I clean up after breakfast, start lunch (no offer of help, from him, here)& assemble things for Church.
When the Tabernacle Choir ends, he reminds all present (Me) time is running out & gets a book to read. I finish phone calls, watering plants, & scale the stairs to get ready telling him, I don't need a baby sitter. Twice late, in 52 weeks is good.
At 10:44am he lays on the bed, shouting that we are leaving in 1 minute. "Go without me!" I say, "I'll come when I'm ready & good," which I'm not feeling right now!! (Did you notice I've been somewhat busy?)
Marching out the door to the car, I slam it, for effect & he follows behind. We sit in stone cold silence on the way. Our seat is gone at 10:55am, as I let him choose a hard seat in the rear of the chapel.
What's wrong with this picture? He wants to be early & I want a bit of gratitude.
Goal for August 23rd: Me- Be early & Him-Thank & help me or drive separately.