202/365 Going to mass all alone

So it's worth it, even if the 7:30 mass is kind of deadly. I find myself almost falling asleep at a couple of points, I'm just so overtired from my week. But I sit in my pew and don't wrestle anyone, don't shush anyone, don't walk out to the back to listen to the homily on one of the hearing-impaired listening devices while my child runs around on the front porch of church screaming with joy because he's not trapped in the pew.

After mass, Miguel asks me why I'm there. I explain, with the laundry to do and I'm there already and so forth, but he's right. I don't belong in 7:30. I'm a 10 o'clock girl, in more ways than one. Ten doesn't feel like an obligation the way 7:30 does.

But it was good yesterday because of the lack of distraction. And the guitar they've brought in for music is much better than the former arrangement of bad piano and bad organ and bad reedy soprano voices. To top it off, I knew all the songs, which never used to happen at the early mass. So I was pleasantly surprised that way, too.

Still, though, I'm back at 10 next week.