I received the strangest voice mail the other day. It was a serious, churchy, preachy message. I dreaded listening to the end fearing what I might hear.
My mind raced to determine which medical test results I hadn’t received. Worse yet, whose dental records would I have to identify?
It was from some entity wanting to add me to a prayer list!
I know I have given televangelist a hard time. I have raked poor old Benny Hinn over the coals, but neither has my phone number. It had to be a joke.
My two usual suspects, the ones who know how tacky I am, both denied instigating the call. My sister was out of town and is too cheap to pay for a long distance prayer.
I gave up trying to uncover who done it. I became more concerned about which action qualified me for placement on a prayer list.
I am positive that the car windows were up when I commented to my spouse that the woman’s orange and yellow jogging outfit that made her look like an advertisement for golden fried chicken. He didn’t disagree, but no one has called him suggesting placement on a prayer list.
I’m sure no one saw me at the supermarket paw through the greek yogurt to locate the one with the longest end date.
The woman who races to get my favorite locker at the gym before I do; deserved the chewing gum that appeared from nowhere, sticking to her walker.
And, I did make a snarky comment to someone about the inferior taste buds of those who prefer Miracle Whip over Mayonnaise.
Okay, so I might possibly be a candidate for a prayer list.
Now I’m flummoxed wondering which category best fits me. I’m sure someone will be letting me know—–soon.