The Loony Bin

When I arrived this afternoon the boss was preparing to fly out the door with one of his confreres. The visiting confrere stuck his head in my office and asked, "How is life in the loony bin?" I laughed and said, "You chose the right noun there..." He went on to describe one person as the looniest of the loons, but I didn't say anything lest I get myself into trouble with my concurring.

I wrapped up the last of the First Communion "catch-up" sessions this afternoon. The class was predictably completely out of control. First Communion is on Sunday; I will be so pleased to see the end of that event. I filled the presider in on what to expect and he seemed glad that I incorporated so many of his ideas.

Our insanity is not merely office related. The cook, upon hearing that we were in for six more weeks of winter, suggested she might go out and shoot the groundhog, or at least run him down with her car, and serve him up for dinner tomorrow night.

After tutoring tonight, I locked up and left the loony bin, glad to escape for 12 hours before the looniness ensues tomorrow.