Of sick, and sin

Before we begin, here is one for the rodents, McCain, (I am still not convinced that he isn't one of them, rodents not aliens - check it out, you will see what I mean) - and for that speshul humans that keeps me awake, amused, amazed, and reminded me that 'Him over there' had competition, proximilitiestitis notwithstanding. This one is for you - cos you gets me, and you gets it.



I have an absolutely annoying habit of cracking my knuckles. It sometimes hurts - but this time, it is hurting a whole lot more. I think I have done permanent damage to my middle right finger. Which, as it happens, would be a problem if I was right handed .. because, well.. I would probably not be 'giving you the finger' now for having your mind in gutter mode.

That out of the way, The Gorgeous One thinks that 'we' should start going to church - he does, oh and volunteers in a shelter on Saturdays too. We were both born Catholic, he is no longer a practising one, I am an equal opportunity non-religious spiritual human being thing eee. His reasoning: that I should have an avenue - 'other than going to church in bed', which as a matter of fact I do - all I have to do is have a book in bed on a Sunday at 1100hrs and we are good to go, I even sing along sometimes - to confess my sins. LOL talk about a non-practising Catholic pulling the guilt trip thingy about hell and damnation on you for good measure.

My answer: I do not sin what I cannot explain
Well, to Him above anyway- which is all that counts

Then he (the gorgeous one) made me 'see' the error of my ways

I am supposing that confession is loooooonnnnng overdue.

*Starts looking for a rosary - which, as it happens, there is none - this is gonna take a while*