January 17, 2011
The Sign-Up Sheet
Every time I see a clipboard at church, I break out into hives. Like grenades and pit vipers, I go to great lengths not to touch these dangerous objects, but sometimes they are unavoidable. Yesterday was one of those days.
Usually I watch for the clipboard like a hawk, but in Sunday School I caught off guard by a woman in the same room who was wearing what appeared to be a large tarantula on her collar.
"It's a black pin," my husband whispered before I could ask. "It appears to be home made."
I was studying the tarantula in excruciating detail when something tapped me on the shoulder.
I practically jumped out of my seat in fear and horror.
On the clipboard were two equally abhorrent sign-up sheets: one for a Mexican-themed potluck dinner and one for people interested in learning how to make strawberry preserves.
Despite my personal feelings towards all social events, I picked up the pencil, which was attached to the clipboard with a piece of string.
"Don't do it," my husband warned.
Motivated by intense moments of guilt (why should my children suffer because I am a homebody?), I have a bad habit of signing up to participate in church-related social events. Typically, I regret those decisions almost immediately.
The clipboard wasn't even to the end of the row before I started to have a panic attack.
"Get it back," I whispered to my husband.
"I warned you," he replied and shook his head.
It was too late. I had committed to bring enough refried beans to feed 8-10 people.
I spent the rest of church stalking the clipboard. Just when I thought all was lost, I found it again, in the Primary (kids' room). I practically snatched it out of another woman's hand.
Scratching my name off the list of potluck attendees produced the same feeling, I imagine, as being injected with a vial of anti-venom.