This morning, The Squire received a phone call from the security company, saying that there was an “incident” at the church. When he arrived, he found two doors open, and the klaxons and lights going full bore.
He was actually considering calling for police backup, when two men, both members of the church, ambled out and headed for their pickup truck. “Loud, innit?” asked one, nonchalantly.
They’d borrowed a dozen or so folding chairs from the church for a Christmas dinner at their home, and were finally getting around to returning them. In spite of the fact that they had called my husband to ask about borrowing the chairs, it never occurred to them to mention returning them. (I suppose that makes sense; they didn’t need permission to bring them back, after all.) According to them, they tried the back door, and the nursery door, and when neither of those opened, they went around and yanked – several times – on the double glass doors in the front of the church until they managed to pull them open. Then, in spite of the deafening noise and blinding lights, they went through and opened the nursery, so they could carry in the folding chairs.
My dad used to say, it isn’t that it takes all kinds. The problem is that we have all kinds.