Sunday, 12 March 2017


Lochlan calls Sam's brand of worship Unitard with a serious Catholic bent. Don't be offended. He asked for help once from God and was denied. I asked for help twice and the Devil stepped in to look after me. We've been running ever since because once the Devil smells your fear he won't ever let you go. Sam says once God knows of your love he won't either but we are suspicious and reluctant and trying all the same to be good Unitarians and also throw in whatever means are necessary (crossing, holy water, rosaries, and I'm considering Mormon magic undergarments) to overcome our wants and focus on our needs (only Him, says Sam). Only all of you, my brain whispers and then my whole body blushes in response.

(I guess at this this point if you're the type of person that would be offended by polyamory or patchwork religion you would't be reading here. So I won't apologize any more.)

Sam is trotting out the big guns today. I feel as if he's threatened by my offer to August to come join us sporadically or even regularly. Hell, everyone was threatened if you want me to be technical. Lyrically, I think they'll not put weight in worry until they see him stick around late into the evening. August has a long cold history of telling me when my time is up. He regulates himself like an army of one, a habit I admire all the while trying to break him of it.

Maybe I should have given up breaking them for Lent. That probably would have been better than giving up sugary snacks. It's been twelve days since I've had a cookie though, and Sam says that nothing logical has come out of my mouth (or my brain for that matter) during that entire time period.

Let's hope morale improves. Apparently God's going to fix that like he's supposed to fix everything else. I'm waiting.