Oh, ick

So today is the day I have to choose the hymns for Sunday. It's Easter, I mean, how hard can it be? I mean, even you can probably predict them.

So then how come I put it off and put it off?? I always do with picking hymns. (I do with washing my hair, too, and can't figure that out either.)

I hate picking hymns. Don't ask me why. I have a pretty good voice, so ain't scared of the music. I read music, so I can figure them out. And I'm picky about what we use. Different meter, perfect words, whatever. Music directors often want to pick the hymns, but I have found, in my limited experience, that, with two notable exceptions (you know who you are), Music Directors tend to take the information given to them about what the service will be about rather literally ... like choosing hymns that have one of the words in the service description in the hymn.

But it don't work like that, folks. The most moving love songs you've ever heard I bet don't even have the word "love" in them. Just like Eva Cassidy's tear producing version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbows" never ever has the word "longing" in it, it just is longing.

So ick ick ick, as the feisty Long Islander on Boston Legal would say, ick ick ick, it's been hymn picking day again. You'd think I'd learn that the sooner I get it done the sooner I can quit worrying about it. And it is only Wednesday, which for the younger me would have been early. But, oh sigh, here it comes again.