A sick day, a holiday, a service day, a Sabbath day

Remember how last week’s letter was totally lame? 

This week was quite the week. 

Monday and Tuesday were your regular ol' missionary days. Teaching the word. Working hard. Visiting people. Walking the streets of Owego and loving life. 

And then.......Tuesday night came. 

And we got food poisoning. 

"Why.....do I feel so sick?" I asked. 

"Ugh, I don't know, but I do, too," said Sister H. 

Our planning sessions kept getting interrupted by one of us going to the bathroom, or one or both of us clutching our stomachs saying, "I don't feel good AT ALL." 

I changed into my pajamas after planning, and looked at my stomach in a mirror. 

"Holy COW! Sister H, am I usually this fat?" 

"WOAH. Girl you're BLOATED." 

"I LOOK THREE MONTHS PREGNANT!" 

We both crawled into bed and fell asleep pretty quickly. 

Wednesday. 

6:29 a.m. 

The alarm goes off. 

I sit up, and immediately my stomach flip flops inside of me. 

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH." I say. 

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH." says Sister H. 

We both take a turn using the bathroom, then I crawl back in bed. 

"Okay, I'm setting the alarm for 9. If we're not feeling better by then, we'll cancel our morning appointments."

9:00 a.m. 

Call #1: "Hey. It's the sisters. So.....we have food poisoning......"

Call #2: "Hey, it's the sisters. So......we have food poisoning......" 

Call #3: "Hey, it's the sisters. So......we have food poisoning......" 

Sister H continued to sleep. 

"Okay," I thought, "I'll set the alarm for 11. If we don't feel better by then, then we'll cancel our afternoon appointments."

11:00 a.m. 

Call #4: "Hey, it's the sisters. So.......we have food poisoning....."

Call #5: "Hi, Sister Writhlin. It's Sister H and Sister Stimpson." 

"How are you?" 

"Uuuuuuugh. We feel SO sick! Our stomachs hurt SO bad, it hurts to move, and I'm so bloated I look three months pregnant!" 

I then had to wait for her to stop laughing before I could continue. 

We literally did NOT leave the apartment ALL. DAY. And we didn't really leave our beds, either. We were SO blasted sick.

Thursday Morning

6:29 a.m. 

"How're you feeling?" asked Sister H. 

"Eh. You?" I replied. 

"Eh." 

9:00 a.m. 

We wake up, roll out of bed, and manage to get ready on time to go to our teaching appointments with members, and our back-to-back thanksgiving dinners. 

This time, we were sick from eating too much, and not from food poisoning. 

By Friday, we felt completely fine. A family in the ward needed help moving that day, so we showed up to help. 

The Elders were there, along with about 6 other men.  And I dubbed this day.....

feminist Friday. 

"Oh, don't take this box. It's too heavy." 

"Oh, this box was heavy. Here, give this one to the Elders." 

"Here! That's too heavy! 

It seemed that EVERY box was too heavy for us. It got to the point when we finally threw our hands up, and began yelling ridiculous comments at nobody in particular. 

"Well FINE! We'll just go sit in the corner and knit and eat bon bons. But, oh wait! What if our little fingers are too dainty to knit? We better not, WE MIGHT BREAK SOMETHING!" 

"ALL WE'RE GOOD FOR IN SOCIETY IS OUR BIRTHING HIPS!" 

"DON'T ASK US TO HELP! WE JUST DECIDED TO COME SO THAT WE COULD WATCH ALL YOU GUYS MOVE WHILE WE SIT AND KNIT OURSELVES A SWEATER!" 

We may have gone a little crazy....

or a lot crazy. 

At one point, we were having a little pity party downstairs and sat on one of their couches because nobody would let us do anything. Then Sister H and I looked around. 

"Hey.....everyone's downstairs," I said, "that means nobody’s upstairs...."

"There's that black bench upstairs!" 

"Let's go move it before anyone catches us!" 

We run upstairs, and Sister H and I quickly clear off the bench, and begin to move it. We were halfway out the front door, when the owner of the house saw us. Her eyes got big and she yelled, "NO! NO, SISTERS PUT THAT DOWN! ELDERS! ELDERS, COME QUICK, WE NEED YOU!" 

I slammed my end of the bench down, threw my hands in the air, and marched away, going on and on once again about knitting and birthing hips. Sister H refused to put her side down, so she and one of the Elders moved it down together as the owner of the house proceeded to lecture me and my companion on moving something that was "far too heavy." 

We marched back upstairs where I saw a big box full of yarn. I picked it up and was halfway down the stairs, when one of the members tried to take it from me. I maneuvered in such a way where he couldn't grab it as he said, "Oh--isn't that heavy?" 

"IT'S NOT HEAVY." 

And I kept moving, and as he stepped out of my way, he slipped and fell in the snow. 

"You pushed him in the snow." said Sister H. 

"Oh no. SORRY!" I said. 

Then, when everything was about cleared out, there were some long 2x4 boards that were being loaded up. I grabbed two and began to walk towards the moving van, when a ward member stopped me and said, "Just take one board." 

"Why?" 

He grabbed one of the two from me and said, "Just one board." 

"WHY. WHY, BROTHER C? WHY?" 

"He can't hear you-" said Sister H. 

"WELL, WHY DO YOU THINK I'M YELLING?!" 

He walked away, two boards in hand. I began to carry just one, then I stopped and said, "I refuse to be a part of this." Grabbed two, and walked to the van. 

Then he chuckled and said, "So, you decided on two, then?"
I handed them to the men loading the van and said, "Yes, I did. It's cause I'm very prideful, very prideful indeed." 

Then came Sunday. 

Sunday evening, we began to organize things for the baptism on Friday. We created a Facebook page and began to invite people. After doing so, we did the only logical thing to do: 

Facebook stalk President Wirthlin. 

I'm sitting at my computer, when I hear Sister H say, "Crap!  No, I don't want to tag them---SHOOT! NO! HOW DO I UNTAG PEOPLE?" 

I leaned over to see her screen. 

"What'dya do?" 

"I accidentally tagged Sister Wirthlin as my mother!" 

Through uncontrollable laughter, I explained that I wasn't sure, but I thought that only her mom or President could untag her.

"Aaaah crap." 

We then proceeded to send him a text explaining the situation. 

Basically, it was a great way to end the week. 

Well guys. I'm off.  . . . . . TO THE TEMPLE TOMORROW! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hurrah for Israel!

Sister Stimpson