Saturday is a Special Day

There is a primary song that goes like this:

Saturday is a special day.
It’s the day we get ready for Sunday:
We clean the house, and we shop at the store,
So we won’t have to work until Monday.
We brush our clothes, and we shine our shoes,
And we call it our get-the-work-done day.
Then we trim our nails, and we shampoo our hair,
So we can be ready for Sunday!

After the earth is renewed and receives its paradisiacal glory, that’s how the song will go in our house.

But for now our song goes more like this:

Sunday Morning is the time we frantically get ready for Church.

Short, sweet and simple.

There are three of us in the house and we each have our own way of getting ready.

I shower, usually 16 milliseconds before my wife had planned her shower. Following my shower I open the closet, select a shirt, slacks and (hopefully) matching tie. I iron the shirt (because the song doesn’t say we must iron our clothes on Saturday) and get dressed. The whole process takes about 10 minutes—less if my wife starts banging on the shower door.

Our 15-year-old son follows much the same process except the shower is much longer and he selects the cleanest available shirt from either the floor or the laundry hamper. He also asks me to help with his tie (unless it’s a bow tie which he has mastered). His time to get ready is about 20-40 minutes.

My wife follows a different process. She searches through the closet and selects all the available blouses, skirts and dresses and lays them on the bed. She then makes a spreadsheet listing all the possible combinations with their plusses and minuses. Minuses include things like making her look fat, pregnant, old, or frumpy. Having worn the same outfit within the last two month also puts it on the minus list. “Pluses” include outfits that look cute. Sometimes she even asks for my opinion which has a weighting of .02% on the overall decision. I guess wearing dresses only on Halloween disqualifies me from offering qualified opinions; that and the fact that I give the same rote response each week; “yes, I like it, it looks great! Can we go now?”

Once she has selected the perfect combination, she does her hair and makeup and dons the chosen outfit. She also opens the jewelry armoire and begins to select the appropriate matching accessories. At this point I start tapping my watch, not to be annoying, just to ensure it’s still functioning.

Thinking we’re finally ready to leave I head to the car. Suddenly our son remembers he needs to brush his teeth and find his scriptures. At the same time, my wife heads back to the bedroom to change into a totally different but much cuter outfit. I begin honking the horn. Not to be annoying, just to make sure it still works.

Sitting alone in the car in the garage, eight seconds before church started used to really bother me. I’m one of those people who’d rather arrive 30 minutes early than 30 seconds late. In fact, just last night I had a nightmare I was late to a business meeting with a tortilla maker because I couldn't find a taxi (don’t analyze me). I was horrified.

While I was sitting in the car one day it dawned on me; “You have two cars for a reason, use them.” Now when it’s time to leave for church and our son is brushing his teeth and my wife is changing into a different dress, I just announce; “I’m going to go now and save us a seat.” And I do, right up in the very front of the chapel—not to be annoying, but because I can hear well when I’m close.

*In the interest of fairness, my wife views the events described above in a different light. Something about having to finish the all tasks described in the song (above),cooking breakfast, doing the dishes, preparing dinner, and helping ME pick the correct shirt, tie, pant and shoe combination. When she's finally ready to shower she discovers that, upon hearing her approaching footsteps, I've leaped into the shower just in front of her. Other than those insignificant items, we both agree it's mostly an accurate representation of actual events.