Just when I thought it was safe to venture out into the world again without spewing nastiness to everyone in the area, two bouts of serious coughing and choking convinced me that I wasn't ready. Tomorrow is doctor time. I hate going to the doctor because I don't have insurance. A job, Lord send me a job!
I didn't go to Br. Alban's funeral for two reasons. One, I didn't want to disrupt things by hacking all through the mass. Two, to me, a funeral is a private thing. I didn't really know Br. Alban. Yes, I'd seen him around, but we never talked. I felt that by going all I would have done was be a voyeur.
Something more disturbing is on my mind today. Why is it that when I am sick I can't keep control of my mind? That really does bother me. All summer I have worked hard to keep watch of my thoughts, to guard my lips, etc., and one week of sickness blows it all out of the water. No, I wasn't indulging in sex fantasies or anything like that, but the thoughts were wild just the same. Here and there and everywhere, and not one thought made a lick of sense. It's made me realize that I am still subject to the body. The body got sick, and the mind went wild.
Pray for me.
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