Don't you hate it when the talk on Sunday was written especially for you and then sticks in your head the rest of the week? Ok, maybe I don't hate it, but this sermon was pretty uncomfortable for me to listen to, and keeps coming to mind.
Like yesterday. Facebook chatting with a friend of mine who lives in Bamako, which is the hottest place I've ever been, I caught myself about to complain to her about the wet and cold day. Duh.
A few hours later I was whining in my head about how early it gets dark here these days. Like it does all year round in mmmBELLYmay land, except there they only have electricity for a few hours a night. And we're grateful for that, since a few years ago there was no electricity at all.
I should stick to speaking only mmmBELLYmay, since I complain a lot less when I'm not speaking my mother tongue. Hmmmm.