Holly and the threesome

The Pastor Professor's first day of school was today. When he asked his students to say something they learned this summer, a newlywed remarked she had learned she could maybe, probably live with a boy.

Later this afternoon, I stopped by the Pastor Professor's new office, which he considers to be some sort of holy shrine. He wants you to take your shoes off before you enter. He won't let you set a large Pepsi icee on his desk. He asked me if I had any idea how tranquil and peaceful it felt to have your space so organized.

As a matter of fact, I recall such a feeling. It was about four weeks ago, when he was in Israel and there was not a speck out of place in my home. But strangely - mysteriously - over the past few weeks, piles of books, clothes, Mountain Dew cans and miscellaneous debris have slowly accumulated, blocking out my peace and tranquility.

But back to his office. Is there a picture of Robyn by herself? No. Are there only pictures of Robyn with the Pastor? Yes. Are there any big pictures of Robyn? No. Aren't I as proportionally important as that frame holding his Ph.D.?

But HOLLY has a picture by herself. HOLLY, some high school girlfriend. HOLLY, who's picture turned up when it mysteriously fell out of some old book he was allegedly discarding. He'd put HOLLY'S found picture out to see if I'd notice. I did. And I thought I was the Pastor's first blonde love after Smurfette.

As I leave his office to go home, I get a text message that says "move out" - what? What's up with that? Turns out he was sending a rather long text message to someone else and he forwarded it to me, so I'd know what was going on, but the message came to me in two parts. Out of order I had received the tail end of the message.

Then I had the pleasure of calling Satan's Minion's working at the cable company. God forbid - me, the lady of the house, might have a question about her husband's affairs. Shouldn't I be making dinner or vacuuming? It was beyond comprehension for multiple cable company employees that I might have a different last name as my husband. I'm the one who set up the account! Believe me, the Pastor would never have authorized a DVR! Don't you people know how lucky you are? One of the employees actually told me maybe, probably I should have changed my name to his to avoid confusion. I ended up three-waying the conversation, calling the Pastor who had to give me permission to talk about our account. So much for feeling like the empowered, modern woman who kept her name and identity. But I did get a credit on our account.

Some people may have figured out they can maybe, probably live with a boy. Me, I'm not so sure. The DVR box is easier to figure out.