Rest-Sunday

It’s Sunday, but for some inexplicable reason, I made the unconventional decision to skip church. Now, don't get me wrong, my faith in God remains unshakable, and I'm as devoted as ever. It's just that on this particular day, I found myself lacking the usual drive to attend the Sunday service. Instead, an overwhelming wave of laziness washed over me, tempting me to remain snug in my cozy bed. Succumbing to this temptation, I extended my arm and grabbed my phone, embarking on a mindless journey through various social media platforms.

As the minutes ticked by, I continued to delay the inevitable start to my day. Nevertheless, I reassured myself that within the next half-hour, I would muster the energy to tackle the household chores that awaited me, setting the wheels in motion for a Sunday that deviated from the norm of church rituals. My agenda for the day included the vital tasks of maintaining a neat and tidy home, completing my usual domestic duties, and attending to my daughter's needs (although she wouldn't be stirring for a few more hours after having a restless night).

In the midst of my intentions, I also contemplated indulging in a bit of self-care and relaxation, preparing myself mentally and physically for the week that lay ahead. After all, there's no harm in occasionally taking a breather and recharging one's batteries, even if it means deviating from the well-worn path of a traditional Sunday morning.

So, there I lay, balancing the guilty pleasure of leisurely inactivity with the nagging awareness that responsibilities awaited me beyond the cozy confines of my bed. Little did I know how the rest of the day would unfold. As fate would have it, the universe had a different plan in store for me. Little did I know that the unexpected was lurking just around the corner, ready to pounce when I least expected it. My serene and cherished "Rest-Sunday" was about to take an unforeseen turn, and it was anything but golden.

With a resolute mindset, I finally mustered the willpower to pry myself away from the enchanting grasp of my phone after a staggering hour and a half of scrolling. It was time to get productive and transform my humble abode into a pristine haven. Armed with cleaning supplies and unwavering determination, I embarked on a mission to make every corner of my home shine with perfection. Floor by floor, room by room, I meticulously scrubbed and polished, pouring my energy into making each surface spotless. The satisfaction of progress fueled my enthusiasm, and I couldn't help but imagine the gratification of a job well done. Feeling accomplished, I decided to elevate my home's aesthetics by embarking on a home improvement project.

We had recently acquired a new ceiling accessory that was eagerly waiting to grace our living room. Brimming with confidence, I donned my imaginary handyman cape and plunged headfirst into the realm of installation. Little did I know that my grand plans were teetering on the precipice of a hilarious misadventure. As I approached the ceiling with enthusiasm, armed with tools and an eager spirit, the unforeseen forces of clumsiness and mishaps were silently conspiring against me. Underestimating the weight with a slight miscalculation, the unthinkable happened. In a moment that felt like slow motion, the ceiling accessory slipped from my hands, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud. Its once-intact form shattered into a myriad of irreparable pieces, as if mocking my misguided efforts.

To add insult to injury, the impact of the fallen accessory sent a nearby vase hurtling through the air. It landed with a splash, disturbing the previously tranquil bucket of soapy water I had used for mopping the floor. The ensuing chaos resulted in a messy concoction of broken ceramic shards, suds, and an overall sense of despair. Startled and desperate to salvage what I could, I leaped off the stool I had been precariously perched upon. However, fate had a cruel sense of humor in store for me. In my hasty movement, I found myself slipping on the soapy surface, my legs parting in an unintended split. There I was, sprawled awkwardly on the wet floor, my sense of dignity dashed alongside my ill-fated home improvement project.

Nigerians will say, “Chai! who send me?”

Did I regret not going to church that Sunday? Oh, yes, absolutely! If I adhered to my resolution from that particular Sunday, I would always be seated in the first seat of the front row at church every Sunday.