Earlier today I was in a far-off realm and had a problem of logistics.
There was Mass in the early evening, and a fast train back home that I would have missed had I gone to Mass. There were alternative, later options to get back, but not being as fast, I would have got home even later. Quite apart from the virtues of a sensible and regular sleep schedule, I have to be at work tomorrow.
My scrupulosity and admiration of the Desert Fathers in the red corner versus common sense (which is often much overrated) in the blue.
I wandered up to a large church I’d spotted amongst the skyscrapers, went in, found the Blessed Sacrament Chapel and gave thanks for all that had happened thus far today.
Then I asked my GA to take my heart (the red, bloody, beating one if necessary – you know, Aztec human sacrifice style) to Mass for me. And then turned round, went to the train station, and got the fast train back home.
And I was at peace with the decision I made.
(In addition, I got back home right before the heavens opened and it started chucking it down with rain)