Windy Sydney

I just sat down to a couple mini-cupcakes with M&Ms.  I had my ice cold can of Diet Coke sitting on my desk, just waiting for me.  The water drops were falling from the side of the can as if to say, "Andee, drink me... I will taste yummy..." 

Well, it would have been yummy.  It would have been the nice, refreshing, ice-cold cola that I have been daydreaming about since 1:30pm.  I didn't get to it though, instead... I had some visitors. Yeah.  Lucky me.

I hadn't even been home for an hour!  I just want to sit and relax, check my email, have some sweets and yummy soda.  What more could a girl ask for?  Apparently the answer to that question, is Mormon missionaries.

I looked through the peep-hole to see who was there.  Let me tell you, the two young men who stood outside my door could have been models for Calvin Klein.  Both were extremely handsome, tall, one with blond hair, the other with dark brown hair.  The blond was tall, the dark-haired kid wasn't short... but not tall.  Just, normal.  They both wore the standard Mormon outfit.  Dark pants, white shirt (see-through just enough to show off their extra-special temple garmies) and the infamous Mormon name tag labeling them not as individuals, but as "Brother So-and-So."

No, this isn't from my apartment...

Living in Utah, I have grown accustomed to using the peep-hole in my door almost as much as I used to in crime-ridden Orlando.  Instead of checking to see if the person outside my door is a strange man with shifty eyes, I am checking to see if its the bishop with shifty eyes.  They looked like they were joking around in the hallway as they waited for me to answer the loud doorbell that sends all three of my cats into "freak-out mode." 

Here is the thing.  I didn't want to talk to them.  I know I could argue or debate with them until the sun came up tomorrow morning... I just wasn't in the mood.  

All missionaries I have ever spoken with come up with the same answers, "Will you read the Book of Mormon and pray to know if its true?" No.  Because I know it's a giant pile of horse crap.  I am not wasting any more of my life trying to figure out how people in the Book of Mormon had steel.  Steel wasn't in the Americas at the time.  It's not true.

"Do you believe in God?" I have no idea what I believe in.  I will tell you what I don't believe in... Mormonism.

"Why did you leave the church, did someone offend you?"  No.  Wait... yes... many, many, many men offended me by not teaching me the truth about the church to begin with.  Instead I was shown paintings depicting the  translation of the Book of Mormon that were plainly untrue.  They were false representations of the facts, and they knew it.  It also offends me when people assume that *I* am to blame for my lack of a testimony.  My lack of a testimony all comes down to one thing... the church not being what it claims to be.

Simple.

Is it me? Or does this look nothing like Tyra Banks?  This thing got photoshopped to DEATH!

Oh, I am sure they would have given me a couple good quotes, and I would have given them a couple good zingers... but I just want to relax today.  My windows in my apartment were open, and I am sure they could hear the sounds from my television as Tyra Banks gave her studio audience some sage modeling advice.  I just didn't answer the door.  I didn't care if they knew I was home, or if they thought I was being rude. 

I came to a realization today... I shouldn't feel rude if I don't open my door for missionaries or my assigned church "friends."  If I don't want to talk to them, I don't have to... and I shouldn't feel guilty about it.  Why *was* I feeling guilty about it?  Sheesh... it's my life... my apartment... and my ice cold diet coke!

Andee