I have been spending this last week trying to get myself interested in going back to that God awful worship service of the Mormons again. I woke up last Monday dreading it. I drank my cereal and chewed my way through my coffee without feeling anything. Tuesday I refused to look at the calendar on my wall that would tell me I was one day closer to more torture and fell down the stairs. On Wednesday I closed my eyes and scrunched up my nose trying vainly to summon the backbone to tough it out again until someone honked at me. Thursday I spent the morning curled up on the couch in the lobby at work until it was time to wake up to go to work. Friday I forgot about my date and accidentally asked my significant other who it was I was supposed to meet. Saturday, well, I don't remember much of Saturday, but the haunting images of screaming children, sticky balloons, and giggling girls seem to indicate it is better that way.
On Sunday the appointed hour rolled around and I had to make a decision. I stuffed myself with dangerous amounts of caffeine mints into my mouth, guzzled some flat Mt. Dew, and grabbed my Iphone in case things got rough. What horror did I find? Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The building was locked and silent. Not a car stood in the parking lot except a police officer looking to brighten the day of his fellow citizens. I could only stare. My informant later told me how this week was another conference. Another conference? How many of these things are there? Why do the Mormons need so many? From the looks of the last set of snooze fests, I cannot imagine what in the world there is to say.
I think this is the place where the Mormon have their real secrets. Screw the temple, next time I am going to conference.
Seven days until the next meeting.....
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