I didn't get struck down by a mighty lightning bolt sent from the heavens.
We got our little family up early yesterday. Margaret donned pink tights, a blue bubble skirt and a Christmas t-shirt. Since, I'm trying to let her make those decisions on her own, I took her out in public dressed like that. I wore my standard daily, non-work uniform: black turtleneck, jeans, argyle knee socks and my black low-top Chuck Taylors (this varies from my daily, work uniform in that the jeans are swapped with a black or gray skirt, socks for black tights and CTs for black, patent-leather loafers — I may be boring but at least I'm consistent).
Yes, I went to church wearing sneakers. Mostly because I forgot we were actually going to church.
See, we took Mar to see her dear friend preform in the Christmas program at the Christian daycare/preschool that Margaret used to attend.
Mar wanted to see her friends and I just like watching children sing too loud and off key while picking their noses.
In the past, the event was held in the evening, but this year they decided to combine it with their Sunday service. Being a heathen, I didn't think that I should at least put on a proper pair of shoes. But then again, with all my other infractions, I don't see that my Converse were going to be the thing that tipped the scales that would force me onto the lightning-bolt list.
And I was right. So far... unless there's some sort of delay in the enforcement of the lightning-bold punishment.
Just to be safe, I won't be carrying a golf club around with me during this storm we're having.
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And for those of you that care, I posted over here.
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