Other then Ed, no one knocks on my door but religions and electricals, peddling wares or schemes for redemption, and it’s too early for either of them. They don’t tend to make such a racket either. I used to like the Pentecostals. Their prayer books have pictures and they don’t have a uniform. I joined them the year before last, but I didn’t know any of the songs, so I went back to the more ordinary Catholics whose songs have straightforward melodies. Even if you don’t know them at the start, you have them figured by the second verse.
I live in a house that attracts a particular kind of religion, one whose followers are nutty for it.
Last week, I had the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Latter-day Saints on the same day, which is a record. Swindle is what religions specialise in, according to Ed. He is cynical. It won’t make life any easier, I want to tell him. Whereas believing in a hereafter, where my brothers and I, my parents, and others I’ve lost will be reunited, might be a comfort when I need one.