Ok,in the morning on a sunday, I usually wake up(because waking up is mandatory,sigh..) and when I’m done with that part I walk to Mutti and Vatti’s room and tell them to wake up in time for church.
Church starts in one hour from the time I wake everybody up. I dance to deviant songs in the morning like hard dancehall and mad booty shaking songs for syke. Then I make sure, that as I’m destroying the “holy sunday” stereotype I pick an outfit that will suit my classy mood.
D usually knew what mood I was in by the way I dressed.Well his gone to South Africa to do law so theres no way he can judge me now.hehe
The sunday stereotype is true, you’ve got to look good for God. I’m happy to note that I’m not the only obvious person in that church. Atleast one woman every week has to wear a skunk like cotton wrapped head wrap on her head. The island of corruption if also the Isle of african Gear. And its extremities are portrayed very well in a woman’s sunday dress attire.
So mum and I don’t wear skunks, but mum’s completely in love with her African tailored long tunic. She wears it constantly, sometimes I feel like pulling it off and burning it. But hey, its sunday, let the sunday spirit fill our nostrils with intoxicating vibes, it’s allowed.
After the daily routine of hallelujah’s, the priest (who usually changes after every week) says his sermon, during that time, I’m more than diligent with my timing. I head straight from the valley of reality in to my own dreams and worries. I feel guilty, yes, but sometimes it goes on and on.
Hey,did you know that priests are one of the best analyzers evER!?they cut down the biblical verses and put them into careful perspective. It’s amazing. I should have invited Father Kayamba to do my IB HL literature paper.
Next thing we do, Mutti and Vatti drive me off unwillingly to the PoshMosh where we order whatever we want on Vatti’s membership and meet people that we meet every single sunday. These are the type that smile, ask about your life, tell you itty bitty bits about there’s, go to their tables, bitch, eat and soak up the sun. 🙂 cURSE mUTTI FOR LOVING THIS PLACE, i think she likes that whole communal PoshMosh feel.
We come home after 5 hours of eating PoshMosh food(which is actually wquite good) and i retire to my usual hotspots within the house, bedroom, toilet seat, tv room, brothers room.
Vatti’s always leaving in the evening right after he drops us off. I don’t like his sense of obligation to ‘that woman’. Chilling milling sunday.
Thank god I’m not in school, I’d be running like a headless chicken trying to do work.