Last Wednesday at The Grind I sent my boss, Elsbeth, the following email:
Me: I’d like to take this Friday, Good Friday, off. I have a lot of praying to do.
Elsbeth emailed me back:
I had had a late night hanging out with Milton the Thursday before so I slept in Good Friday morning. As planned, I woke praying:
Me (praying): Please don’t let it be noon.
I looked at the time on my dumb phone and saw that my prayers were indeed answered. It was only 11:57. I showered and then stepped out to run an errand. I went shopping for bananas. Upon returning to my sanctum santorum, I saw that in the span of my twenty-minute absence, a hydrangea had been placed in my building’s vestibule.
As I flirted with tearing a groin muscle to photograph it in natural light; I had to prop the front door open with my right leg while stretching the rest of my body like Elastigirl from The Incredibles to take the shot, it occurred to me that this is the first Easter season that my building has not had a traditional Easter lily in the vestibule. How did I feel about that?
Me (thinking): There must have been a half-price special on hydrangeas.
Personally, I prefer the lily. It smelled fragrant, didn’t irritate my nasal allergies, and I think it’s an infinitely more attractive plant. Am I right or am I right?
On the other hand, pictured below is how Easter is traditionally celebrated within the confines of my hovel.