So, I figured I'd use my free evening to practice music for church. Armed with a stack of music from this past Sunday, I made my way across main street to St. Paul's Episcopal. I had just made it across the path when someone called to me.
"Hi! How are you?"
Damn! Mormons! It's quite ironic. You see, just this evening I had commented on seeing the Mormons on my commute home. I joked about meeting them at my door and telling them that I used to believe in the Book of Mormon, but am now studying Buddhism, oh and would they like to meet my wife, who is currently practicing Judaism.
No, instead, I stood there trapped between the Mormons and the church door. Laden with stacks of books, I could do nothing but stand and act friendly. I had no real issues in lying to them, but then they asked to stop by sometime later this week.
Lacking any ability to say no, I begrudingly told them that I lived just across the street. They should be stopping by Thursday or Friday afternoon. I'm trying to figure out who I should have over to greet them. Right now, I'm thinking no one, unless I can find a Furry.
That'd be a scene. Mormon, meet Furry. Furry, stop hacking on Mormon. It's stranger than fiction, which is what I think my life is starting to become.