Several of my catechism students (fifth & sixth grades) gave me Christmas presents at tonight's last class before the Christmastide break. Three of the four gave me candy, while the fourth gifted me a scented candle. Thus, I am doomed: I barely have the willpower not to buy candy when I am at the grocery store; I quite frankly do not have the self-discipline not to eat the blasted stuff once it's inside the house. Drat!, drat!, & double drat! So much for the fantasy of not swelling up like a balloon—a morbidly obese balloon—this holiday season.
Also, earlier in the day my father's war-gaming pal, with the comic-book-villain name of Mr. Legacy, told me that he'd thought of me earlier in the day when he spied a one-pound Snickers bar at a filling station. Oh, hey, thanks. I know the Lord Jesus told us not to return insults for insults for our ultimate good, but it sure would be temporarily gratifying to do so.
Well past time, I'd say, to reactivate Operation ÖSTERREICH.
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