The way that I believe it all went down on Friday the 13th, October 1307 is that The Knights Templar got screwed. Obviously, at that time in our evolution, EVERY body was killing or being killed in some of the most gruesome manners possible. (Jeffrey Dahmer had nothing on the Inquisition, ahem), but the KT got hit by surprise by the cowardly King Philippe's minions and that was the end of that.
Why would a group of people who had battled for Christianity for nearly three centuries suddenly be kicked off the island? Well-- let's just say, they were powerful, rich, no taxes, freedom of movement and had secret rituals that King Phillipe wasn't privy to--- he wanted to join, but they didn't let him in-- and there you have it.
The outsiders, the wild and free, the just-say-no-to-the-mainstream get shafted again.
And thus concludes my ruminations on medieval history--- should I disclose that I have NEVER received higher than a passing grade in any history class I ever took? Somehow my version of events never lined up with what the teacher was looking for-- and you know, dates schmates . . lotta guys killing each other, pick a day-- that's pretty much how I see it.
But Friday the 13th .. we all know THAT date.
Which is tomorrow and the day I drive out to Portland, Maine to collect up my books.
You see, the back story on much of my stress level, lo these long weeks, is due to an EFFING misery of a distributor who, I believe, may have been one of the authors of Malleus Maleficarum.
Why, pray tell, would I decide to use a distributor instead of shipping out each copy of the journal by hand? At the time, I thought I was being smart (*insert laugh track*). Although I may appear to spend the better part of my days dawdling and spoiling my needy dogs-- the fact is, my daily dance card was already pretty full with other activities and I thought this would be the wise, business choice.
How many ways can YOU spell---> WRONG-O?
I've come up with no less than 47 spellings which include: shipping books in more expensive mailers than were in my contract, recommending the world's worst shopping cart on the planet, failing to send me daily ship reports for oh gosh-- days and days-- and several instances of deliberate misinformation.
Suffice to say-- it was in no way smart.
And so, I am getting in my car tomorrow and driving out there to wrestle them to the ground, load the remaining boxes of books in my car (please GOD let them fit in my vehicle) and giving them every known gesture of 'I don't like you very much' that the Italians have ever created.
And, of course, I just checked the calendar and it is freaking FRIDAY THE 13th.
Could the outsider win one, just this once?
The photos above were taken mere minutes ago-- that is my office (WITH INTERNETTTY!!) from whence I am writing to you.
Send me good thoughts tomorrow. My hope is for everything to go smoothly and to end the day slouched down in a darkened movie theater, bucket of popcorn in my lap as Eat, Pray, Love rolls across the screen.