the annual crab fest at the home of two people who work for the parish is not the place to:
* drink wine on an empty stomach and then
* discuss the doctrine of purgatory and then
* tell tales from your wild (former?) days of drinking and drugging and running from the cops simply because you slipped under the fence to avoid 4 miles of walking to the lincoln center and had it spring to mind the things of your wild *yute*.
these are the things that may, perchance, require confession if, perchance, you *happened* to discuss them.
why did this post take 20 minutes to compose?
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