Wednesday, February 1, 2006

Ding dong, saviours calling

I just got finished exercising when I heard a knock at the door. All sweaty and panting I open it up and see my friendly neighbourhood Jehovah's Witness standing outside. She mumbled something about angels, thrust a Watchtower into my hand and buggered off with her partner in crime.

When did I get on their visiting list? I must have said something to encourage them at some point otherwise they wouldn't be knocking, right? I just don't remember. It must have been one of those times when Scott was out of town on business for weeks on end and was feeling lonely and anxious for adult conversation. What a pair of adults to choose.

I was raised strictly Catholic. And when I say strict I mean strict. When I moved out I took the opportunity to stretch my religious wings and by that I mean sleep in on Sunday mornings. Scott's a lapsed Unitarian and when we decided to marry we went for the happy medium. Anglican. They let women be priests and men priests get married, dress casually but keep a lot of the Catholic rituals in the mass. Awesome. The kids are all baptised Anglicans.

So why do the Witnesses keep coming over? I don't give them any money (although I did buy a children's bible from them once in a fit of guilt when at age 6 Elliott asked me who Jesus was). We don't even chat anymore. They just hand me the Watchtower and leave. How are they going to convince me to switch teams? They're so not trying. What they need is a gimmick. Maybe a customer rewards programme. Save 4 people you get the 5th for free or something. Frankly, I'm glad they haven't been bothering me too much lately. I'm actually flipping through my Watchtower instead of flipping it into the recycle bin.

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