It’s been quite humid here in the City by the Sea for the past few days. Since we’re not used to it, and have limited air-conditioning, sleeping can be a challenge. Sometimes a fan helps; sometimes it just makes things worse.
Thursday night I managed to go to sleep a little early, but woke up again. And calling to me from my bedside table was Gilead. I had about 25 pages to go. I considered taking it downstairs, but I also felt a little hungry and didn’t want to risk sabotaging my good efforts on the “Eat No Crap” food plan.
I took the book into the bathroom. That bought me a few pages of seated reading. I still didn’t want to go downstairs, and I really didn’t want to stop reading.
About ten minutes later, I heard the sounds of my husband lumbering around like a bear waking up from a long winter’s nap. He came out into the hall blinking against the light. At first he didn’t notice me standing there, leaning against the bathroom counter. It’s not a very big hall; when would he see me?
He got to the doorway and did a double-take. “What are you doing?!?”
“Just finishing my book,” I said, as I slipped out into the hall and sat down on the top step.
(For those of you preaching the lectionary, it is interesting to note that Gilead includes some material on Hagar and Ishmael, coming up next Sunday. It really is a marvelous book. On to The Mermaid Chair!!)