It's a beautiful, crisp Thursday morning here. The past few weeks have been quite rough with Annabelle and all. We still haven't made any plans for moving in together. I don't want to hurt her feelings. Lately, I have been contemplating making an appointment with god, or at least visiting the church.
There has always been pope Michael wheeling around his confessional trying to get people to talk to him. Rumor has it that he forgets everything because of his dementia. So I guess that's cool. It's not that I really have anything to confess, bad stuff just keeps happening to me. I mean I almost died the other day.
I look out my window at Pope Michael. He actually looks like Gandalf. His confessional has a little donation box on the side. He walks around in a creamy, silk white gown. He's also wearing Birkenstocks- navy blue ones. He has on a big gold cross necklace and it jingles around as he walks.
I decide to take a chance in my life and start confessing things to this man.
