Our house is stuffed full of bags. We have bags on the landing, in the hall, the kitchen, in the lounge. The other day I found 3 more HUGE bags in the shed which apparently don’t even belong to us and was told we are just housing them for someone else! That’s nice, shame I’m not charging for floor space!
The bags began to arrive a couple of weeks ago: both kids came back from Uni. Emma has finished at Uni so ALL her worldly possessions have now been transferred to home, after all where else can you go between Uni and your first job? Thankfully, she does have that first job starting soon, but not yet a London base to live in.
Next Matt arrived back from Uni, he promises me he did leave some stuff stored in his new place for September but he still managed to bring home half a car full of stuff (well, it was a whole car, but only half full if you see what I mean).
Anyway if I thought that was bad, the number of bags in this house is about to rise by a factor of NINE. Today, NINE, yes, NINE of Emma’s girl friends come for the weekend to celebrate her birthday. That’s NINE full size grown up people, with NINE over night bags, NINE wash bags, NINE make-up bags. NINE girls to have showers and wash their hair for two mornings in a row!! How long is that going to take?! NINE people eating and trying to find places to sleep in our very ordinary sized semi.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, aaaaaarrrgh!
Are you detecting a slight note of hysteria? I’m not sure about the actual number, Emma just reeled off the names and I lost count after 7. Anyway whatever it is, you have to add 3 (for the rest of us who live here anyway) plus the dog (who is going to go berserk, SO many shoes to choose from, ‘which ones shall I chew first?’)
I can’t currently recall why I agreed to this so easily… perhaps I’d slipped into a parallel universe where anything seemed possible?
Anyway here’s the really fun bit: after two nights of this joyful mayhem, I’m preaching on Sunday morning. Not just any old sermon either. An assessed sermon which has to be filmed and taken back to college so that the minutia of my content, delivery and mannerisms, not to mention my Biblical prowess can be all be given a mark. This is the sort of thing they do to trainee vicars.
( Sorry I was momentarily distracted by the sound of hysterical laughter and then realised it was mine!)
Do you think anyone will notice the facial tick brought on by stress? The bags under the eyes from lack of sleep? The wild hair style due to not being able to get in my own shower?
Oh well, at least I can preach authentically. Chosen months in advance, my text for this sermon is ……..
‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things’….
Too right I am!