Our TV remote is lost, and it pisses me off. I always put the remotes back in the same place just so that they don't get misplaced. I may sound like some kind of anal-retentive, neat freak. I can own that. However, that doesn't help me at the moment. The remote is still M.I.A. And I don't know where to start looking.
If I don't find it soon, I'm going to drive myself crazy. I have other things I need to accomplish tonight. All the time I will lose searching for this stupid remote is time I could have spent preparing for class or reading a book or saying my prayers and devotions. Instead, I will be driving myself insane looking for a rectangular piece of plastic with buttons, because that's just the kind of person I am.
Okay, my wife just found the remote. Life is much better. I know what you must be thinking right now: What kind of weirdo loses his mind over a television remote? Well, it's a matter of control. There are very few things in my life of which I feel in control. Keeping things neat and in their places is just my way of...
Who am I kidding? I am a freak. I admit it. I own it.
But Saint Marty is a freak with a TV remote.
