For I have sinned. It's been, well, forever, since my last confession. No matter how stubbornly I try to deny it, every time the census come's round, I still list R.C. (Recovering Catholic) as my religion on the form. I've never taken communion or been confirmed. The last time I did anything other than a funeral (or a tour group) in a Catholic church was my baptism. My parents weren't hardcore, and I've fought the stigma of being a Catholic all my life. I don't share the same orthodox beliefs as they do, and I don't care for the regimental structure that says you have to be miserable all the time to secure a place in Heaven.

However, I have guilt. Lots and lots and lots of guilt. Not for big stuff - like I never killed anybody, and for some reason I never felt a lick of guilt for sleeping with a married man back in the days when I used to be interesting. Instead, I feel it for the little things.

So in no particular order of importance, here is my confession wish list. I wish to be absolved by you, my dear readers. Feel free to use the comments section to post (reasonable) acts of contrition.

1. I stole somebody's dinner. I don't know who's, and I didn't really mean to steal it, but once I had it, I didn't know how to give it back. Mr. Right and I ordered out for dinner on Friday, but accidentaly gave the wrong entry code to the restaurant. Knowing that their delivery guy wouldn't be able to get in, we went down to the lobby to wait for him. We met the guy, let him in, signed the credit card receipt without looking at it (stupid, I know), and took the bag of food upstairs to find that not only was it not what we'd ordered, but it was from a completely different restaurant!! There was no name on the bag, and we hadn't kept "our" copy of the receipt, so we didn't know who to call and tell about it. My only defense is that I actually asked the guy if he was from the restaurant we had ordered from, and he said yes. So I asked him if he was delivering to our apartment - he said yes. Turns out, "yes" was probably the only english word the guy knew. The chicken wings were really good. Too bad I don't know what restaruant they came from.

2. Haven't spoken to my father's best friend since the night he told me the Cottage burned down. I got pissed off because they'd kept the information from me for six months. I sent him a Christmas card, though.

3. I quit my horrible job. I am now temping elsewhere, but I worry constantly about making the bills (Christmas has been effectively cancelled), and if my husband's immigration claim will be affected by my change of employment. He tells me that quitting was worth it, because I don't cry every morning when I wake up now, and I don't come home depressed and angry. The job was killing me. I wouldn't have survived it - but can we survive without it? He tells me not to feel guilty - I told him that "Hey, I'm Catholic, you might as well tell me not to breathe!"

4. Because of the above, I couldn't afford to go to my friends bachelor party in Montreal before he moved to California. I feel guilty for this, although I know I shouldn't. He didn't go to mine before I moved to Scotland, either. But I am one of those people who tries constantly to keep contact with my friends, often to little or no response. I took the bold move of cutting unresponsive people off my Xmas card list this year - and I feel guilty about it!! These are people who never send me a Chrismas card, never call, didn't even send an e-card for my wedding; yet I am the one with the guilt. Out of the 34 Christmas cards I did send this year, I have received 6. And one anniversary card (it's tomorrow) from my in-laws.

Please readers, tell me to go do my Hail Marys, then grant me pardon and absolution from the commission of my sins. In time for Christmas.