Minneapolis Adventures

Yesterday was Easter Sunday, and in the grand tradition of many Christians, I attended one of my two annual church services. Typically, I listen to the service and follow along with the hymns; it is usually fairly uneventful. This year's Easter worship, however, was more than just a normal service. It ended up as the embodiment of a joyful noise made unto our poor Lord, who immediately thereafter ran for His bottle of Excedrin migraine.

The new associate pastor had the brilliant idea to have the children's sermon at the beginning of the Easter service. She and my father performed a puppet show and gave out bells and these little wooden dowels with a white streamer at the end to all the kids. They instructed the kids to ring the bells every time they heard the word "alleluia."

It should be noted that the 8:30 am service on Easter Sunday is one of the most crowded of the entire church year, with the most kids. Given that, there is no recourse other than to helplessly wonder why anyone would think that distributing noisemakers to the scores of children in attendance was a good idea. And of course nearly every hymn contained the word "alleluia" in multiple places. So all you could really hear at the end of every phrase was the vigorous ringing of the plethora of little bells.

Christ the Lord is risen today, DING A LING A LING DING A LING DING DING
Sons of men and angels say, DING A LING A LING DING A LING DING DING
Raise your joys and triumphs high, DING A LING A LING DING A LING DING DING
Sing, ye heavens, and earth, reply, DING A LING A DING A LING A DING DING DING

The upside is that the bells somewhat disguised the lady to my right who had the weirdest vibrato ever and the lady off to my left whose nasal voice was more than vaguely reminiscent of Fran Drescher. I was also greatly amused by observing a family of four kids a couple pews in front of me. One little boy complained loudly about breaking a nail. But before long, the broken nail was overshadowed by the pleasure of ringing his bell directly in his brother's ear. Later, he started hitting his sister in the head with the little white flag. Thanks be to God for bringing us all together to be entertained.

A few Fridays ago, my academic advisor (also my boss), TheAdvisor, asked me to stay a little later at the office. He said he needed to leave, but a student was coming to drop something off and someone needed to let the guy in and then lock up. I readily agreed, since I live within easy walking distance of my place of employment.

Promptly at the appointed hour, a knock sounded at the door. I opened it to find a small, craggy looking man who must have been in his mid-fifties and a card-carrying member of Dirty Old Men of America. He entered the office suite and left a huge stack of papers on TheAdvisor's desk.

Since he had now made his delivery and I wanted to go home, I thought it best to hint that it was time for me to lock up. I smiled and told him, "Have a nice weekend!"

He turned to me, looked me up and down, and then said, "You had to have been raised in the States, because you speak really good English!"

I think that's the most racist thing anyone has ever said to me. After I finally got rid of the creepy little guy, I couldn't stop laughing.

Tonight was easily the most disgusting experience of my life. I think I am going to have my cat completely shaved so this is not a recurring event.

11:40 - I am sitting at my computer, about to start work on a paper, when Maya comes running out of the bathroom and wipes her hindquarters on the floor, leaving a long streak behind her. She runs into the kitchen.

11:41 - I am at a loss. I can only stare in wonder and disgust while debating whether to clean the cat or the carpet first.

11:42 - I decide on the cat. I follow her into the kitchen and grab her and some paper towels. I begin disentangling feces from hair. Her objections are loud and adamant.

11:47 - The cat ducks into a corner and refuses to budge. I find the carpet cleaner and spray a liberal coat over the streak before returning to the cat.

11:49 - I cannot seem to clean any more fecal matter from Maya's rear end using wet paper towels. The smell is overpowering. She continues to voice her displeasure.

11:50 - I retrieve a pair of scissors.

11:53 - The cat is struggling, rendering the scissors largely ineffective. I pick her up and deposit her in the bathroom.

11:56 - I spray another coat of carpet cleaner over the streak.

11:58 - I return to the cat, who flees the bathroom the second I open the door. I have to lure her back with kitty treats.

12:00 - I am in the bathroom with the cat. She sits and glares at me. I am not sure what to do next.

12:02 - I fill the bathtub with a couple of inches of water. I can see Maya's eyes get wide as I pick her up and set her in the tub.

12:03 - Maya jumps out of the tub and sprays water everywhere.

12:06 - I am on my knees on the bathroom floor, once again trying to swab her clean with wet paper towels. She kicks and struggles and mews loudly.

12:10 - I have managed to cut off some of the mess. I pick it up with toilet paper and flush it. The cat sits and glares at me.

12:12 - I go back to swabbing her rear end. She kicks at my legs. I try to speak soothingly, which is a challenge when her claws are embedded in my thigh.

12:15 - I let her have a break. She glares. I speak softly and try to pet her. She lunges at my hand.

12:19 - I am unhappy. I am having very little success with further cleaning.

12:22 - We take another break. Maya looks at least as unhappy as I am.

12:27 - The cat has given up struggling. I manage to remove most of the grossest clumps.

12:30 - The cat and I have had enough trauma. I clean up the floor and then scrub my hands while singing the entirety of "International You Day" by No Use For A Name, to make sure I am somewhat sanitized.

12:35 - I open the bathroom door. The cat stalks out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. She sits and stares pointedly at the refrigerator (where she knows her treats are).

12:36 - I decide she deserves a treat. She eats it and then takes a swipe at me with her claws before going and lying down by the radiator.

12:37 - I watch her turn to clean herself, take a whiff, and change her mind.

12:40 - She is still sitting in the kitchen, glaring at me with death in her eyes. I apply another coat of carpet cleaner.

12:42 - I am still trying to clean the carpet. I notice that the cat has fallen asleep.

12:45 - I finish the carpet. The cat is still sleeping. I think I might hate her.