It has been the sort of strange day that leaves me unhappy. I was rousted sometime before noon (which, as I have mentioned before, is early when you turn out the lights between four and five in the morning), and told that I was supposed to drive thirty-five minutes to pick up one of my wife’s friends who is, apparently, staying with us, and then bring her back here. I can’t say that I actually knew she was “staying” with us. Yesterday evening while I was preparing dinner she emerged from the basement, which completely surprised me to the point that I wondered whether she’d been hiding down there for the past month; last night she was asleep on the couch, and I was asked to provide a spare blanket for her. Thus when I was awakened and told something about driving to the next county for her, my first thought was to find out whether she was still here or had already gotten someone to drive her there. I hope you can understand my confusion when I was told no, she is not here, she is there and needs to get here, but apparently she imposed on one of our houseguests to run her out there at crack of dawn, about the time my lights were being darkened.

Given that the time I was told to get her was just about as long from the moment I received this information, and that that was also something close to the estimated legal driving time, and that I was still in my pajamas and not yet awake enough to make sense of the instructions, I had a rushed run at getting ready to go. Then, just as I was getting in the truck, I was told to wait a minute while a call was made to double-check the plan, since the guest was already asleep before the hostess had time to discuss this with her, and already gone before the hostess was awake. The answer: the plan has changed; she has another ride.

Next step, though, was motor vehicles. It appears that the saga of the car has been resolved such that it will be our car, and I will be driving it in the future. That meant title and registration, but since all of these things are (as previously mentioned) in the lady’s name, she has to be present for the paperwork. At the same time, the registration on her truck expires this month, so that had to be renewed. I asked whether she wanted to go immediately or give me an hour to get my day started aright and then go on her way to work, and she wound up splitting the difference, giving me insufficient time for my morning study either before or after the motor vehicles trip.

I know what you’re thinking. Everyone dreads the long lines at motor vehicles. Well, we’re out in the sticks. A long line in the local office means there’s someone in front of you, and rarely do you need to be in more than one line. That, at least, is worth a smile.

However, from there I drove the wife to work. She did not mind being there twenty minutes early, and she wanted me to drive out to the next town–half an hour out, half an hour back–to pick up pool chemicals. She also has been nagging me to get a new shirt, and insisted that it had to be done today; had she insisted I do it yesterday, or the day before, I could have done it while I was in Wal-mart anyway picking up things she needed for herself, but I have been complaining about the need for a shirt myself, and although this is not exactly what I wanted, I got it. Between the two I stopped at the bank, but along the way got a phone call (I hate phones, and cell phones even more) saying that I forgot to FAX an important paper to our mortgage holder (which I did not forget–I simply had not had time since she signed it Sunday). That was one more thing to do, and by that time I was frustrated and looking at an impending dinner time. I made supper, and ate it, and then finally started my morning study.

All of which explains why as I reached Gaming Outpost, with the long stretch of my Tuesday workload still ahead, my clock is singing Nine O’Clock P.M. That’s hardly time enough to sneeze before I’m going to have to go get the wife. I’m not happy.

I mentioned that my pastor has requested a copy of my Romans notes. Beginning last night I started printing those notes, and editing them. I’m not sure whether I should be proud or embarrassed to report that the notes run almost nine hundred pages, but part of that is the layout (the pages are printed landscape, with the bulk of the text about as wide as would fit in a portrait width page, an outline and translation in columns to the left), so it will probably come down to four or five hundred if I convert it to book format, which I will probably do eventually.

Well, let me not lose any more time. I’ve much to do still.

–M. J. Young