For those who find my persona wearisomely, hyperbolically solemn — and justly so; I take everything too seriously — I offer the following morning scene.
Picture a tall but, ahem, padded middle-aged guy down in the basement pedalling furiously on his stationary bike, perspiring copiously, reading a monograph about the “Gospel of Peter,” singing along to the falsetto parts of “Number Nine Dream.” No photo- or audio-recording would do the ludicrousness justice.
But I’ll be ready to go for Diocesan Convention today, and for the Adult Forum at St. Augustine’s Church, Wilmette, tomorrow morning.