Newcomers Bread

This morning, Bryan and I tried out yet another new church. He signed the welcome book, we sang the songs, and on our way out we were tracked down by a sweet lady who insisted I looked just like her granddaughter with my curly locks/she loved my necklace. I consider this a step up from last night’s dinner where I was told I look like the evil girl from the Twilight series.

A couple of hours ago, I was sitting with Bryan on the couch and there was a knock at our door. The only people who knock on the door are maintenance or UPS, since it requires a scan key card to get in. I panic because I think they will discover I have my pet ‘uncaged.’ In a swift attempt to get her back into the cage as Bryan is walking towards the door, she takes off flying in a figure eight and won’t come back down. I give him a look that insists, I don’t care what they can hear, don’t let them in. I snatch her in time to ‘hide her in the bathroom.’ She is chirping like a maniac and now it echoes. Bryan opens the door to find an older woman (a new one) standing there with a loaf of bread in her hands. She is thanking us for attending this morning, over the sound of muffled squawking in the background. I apologize on behalf of my bird yet she still looks uncomfortable. Perhaps she thinks we are unmarried and living together? And how did she even get into this apartment complex? Did she follow someone in? How did they read through the guest book so fast? A million thoughts start racing through my mind. I’ve heard of mugs, stickers, and pens–but this was a whole new take on marketing.
All I know is that you should never go to the market on Saturday. There’s a chance you might stock up on Sunday!

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