Apr 26
"Don't math, just fill up the cheese."
-- My mother, reading announcements this morning
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"Don't math, just fill up the cheese."
-- My mother, reading announcements this morning
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There is a church elder/dad type (we will call him T) in the congregation, and for the past month or two, he has randomly gone to the closest coffee shop and gotten a tea for my mother and a hot cocoa for me. When I am hiding in the back of the sanctuary (because Presbyterian), he will come find me and give me the drink. He is wonderful, and I deeply appreciate it. This is not the point.
I have told him (repeatedly) that I am going to pay him back, because the closest coffee shop isn't super expensive but its still fairly pricey. Whether it is through money or not remains to be seen. Here is a rough transcript of the conversation I just had with him (again):
T: Here you go, PK
PK: Thank you so much. (slight pause) I am going to pay you back, you know.
T: No you won't.
PK: Yes I will, T. (said with much sass and emphasis on the name)
The wonderful thing about growing up in a low-church setting is no one questions it when they hear you fall on the stairs, quietly grumble curse euphemisms, hand the pastor a church-shaped coin bank, and then completely and utterly fuck off to go take a nap.