We buried a man today. An educated man, probably the most educated in this neck of the woods, and we buried him on a Sunday.
When I die I don’t want to be buried on a Sunday. Sundays are when people get to go to church in the morning, young mothers try to lull their crying babies to sleep during a sermon, fathers distribute church offering amongst the kids, and teenagers discover new things to do in lieu of going to church and me, I oversleep.