It was making everyone crazy, just like the wind was making me crazy. In the kitchen, I put on the kettle for tea. As it came to a boil, a plume of steam shot up, loud and seething. It was a metaphor for everything and everyone around me. I had had it up to here with austerity and misery. It wasn’t the fasts that irked me anymore—in fact I could now stretch out a bun and a tea and make it feel like a four-course meal—it was the constant and oppressive solemnity. I kept checking the calendar and counting the days to the end of Lent. The divine office that I had loved so much had lost the joy that had initially inspired me. I privately began referring to the “Te Deum” as “the Tedium.” The psalms of David that previously had been moving in their eloquence and sonnet-like lyricism now sounded whiny, and I had to bite back the urge to wish David would “man up.” The routine and repetition were getting to me, too.
What do You think about And Then There Were Nuns (2013)?
