Baptist Bread

Hubs woke up very early this morning, and found this:

Seriously. I’m pro-God. And I think the Baptist bread was a nice gesture, sincerely, I do. I don’t think this was the best-laid plan. But it was definitely a nice gesture.

So thank you Baptists.

But really, did the idea person behind this membership drive actually believe for one minute that we, or our yuppie-neighbors, would actually eat unidentified bread, from an unmarked bag, left on our doorstep by some unknown person, between midnight, and six o’clock in the morning?

(Is this weird, or is it just me?)

Granted, the Baptists left a postcard too, with kind words about breaking bread with new friends, and a few bible verses. And honestly, I think this was a unique approach to drive membership, but uhmm, it’s not working. For me. Anyway. I mean, they got my attention, for sure. But my fake-OCD and that little voice in my head have kicked in, and they are having a Jim Jones red flag parade.

And so now I’m looking for my big yellow Playtex gloves, and salad tongs to pick up the bread, and dispose of it. In the outside trash barrel. And I’m thinking that I’ll probably need a gas mask too. Hmm. Maybe I have a painter’s mask somewhere. That’ll work. And I’ll need to get some Clorox to scrub everything the bread touched… Including Hubs, because brought the bag inside. And let’s see… I’ll have to throw away the salad tongs, and the gloves. Yep. That’ll work.

Wait. Hubs just told me that he wants to use the Baptist bread to feed the birds. Whoa.

Dear St. Francis, please watch over the birds in our yard… because I really don’t want to come home from work tomorrow and find …..Amen.

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