I woke this morning to a very sunny sky. So I decided to walk to church. I had no deadlines before or after, so why not?
Sunday morning here is extremely quiet. I love that.
I was a bit surprised, when I set out for my walk, leaving more than enough time for the mile-long stroll, to see a fair number of other people rambling about.
And some of the restaurants along the main road showed signs of life as staff got ready for the day -- another unexpected sight.
I arrived with time to spare, so I took a few laps around side streets of the church, and was shocked to find some a bit seedy and derelict. So I was not surprised to find the doors of the church locked when I arrived about 15 minutes before the service.
Two young men were in the foyer and they let me in. They looked at me curiously. And I looked at them curiously. We were in a kind of etiquette Mexican standoff.
Just then, the minister came out of the sanctuary into the foyer. When he opened the door, I could tell there was a service going on inside the sanctuary.
I was completely flummoxed.
"Hello [my real name]," he whispered. He read my face. "We set the clocks an hour ahead last night."
I am 40 years old and I have never, NEVER missed a time change. This was very humiliating. Nonetheless, I went inside for the last 40 minutes of the service. (There was a guest speaker, which was why the minister was out greeting latecomers.) As soon as I got home, I changed all my clocks.
I feel a bit deflated. I really couldn't afford to lose an hour just now. I guess the good part of it all is, I got to sleep in a bit I had a bit of a lie-in.
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