So, Praise the Lord, the world didn’t end last night at 6pm as predicted by Harold Camping.
I was mightily relieved – I had my washing out.
Yep, there’s nothing that annoys me more than having to bring my washing in until I’m ready for it. My record for leaving it in the garden is about 5 days. Although there was that time we went on holiday…I told Mr T is was a ploy to fool potential burglars. I’m not sure if he believed me though…
Anyway, imagine having to bring your washing in whilst covered in volcanic ash and torrential wind and rain whips your face. Not a pleasant idea – although probably cheaper than going for a face peel.
You know, it doesn’t matter how much the logical side of me says oddballs like Camping, who spout ridiculous claims about the end of the world, are just nutters -there’s always a tiny part of me which carries a nagging doubt. It’s not really the imminent thought of dying – that’s the easy bit – it’s the thought of judgement day itself which really puts the wind up me. I mean, what happens if God is as fastidious about ironing as Mr T? I will be in serious, serious trouble. The thought of having of finding myself in purgatory ironing thousands of cassocks and angel wings….
But then, of course, I might not go to purgatory. I might go straight to hell and hell might be one giant steam press with lots of naughty housewives squashed in the middle screaming “I only burnt one shirt!”
Blimey, it doesn’t bear thinking about. But I can’t help it now. Just imagine eternity with a red face, sweaty armpits and every time you look up there’s a line of washing baskets filled with crumpled shirts winding into the distance….
Anybody got an elixir for eternal youth? I’m feeling kinda queasy….
You know the idea of a vengeful God doesn’t appeal. Somehow, I think a lot of these fundamentalists have got it wrong. Anyway, why does God have to wreck havoc on earth? We’re doing a pretty good job on our own.
Right, that’s my philosophical thought of the day. I’m off to watch tennis, cricket and all those lovely sheets flapping in the wind.
I just hope a tumble drier doesn’t fall out of the sky and kill me.
