I was at the local farmer's market this morning buying a blueberry bush. As I was paying for my new bush, a priest walked up behind me with a cane in each hand. He looked like he had just returned from the local Renaissance Festival, wearing old brown tweed robes and an aged gold cross dangling from his neck.
The priest came with no money and no intentions of purchasing anything.
The farmer asked the priest if he planned on returning next Sunday (as they were only open Sundays) and the priest said that he'd try, but he is very busy. He proceeded to tell us his weekly schedule, he works seven days a week and most of the time two shifts a day. I politely excused myself before he went into anymore detail. I had to take my blueberry bush home.
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