I had every intention of going to church.

In fact, I had intended to go for three weeks. My outfit had been selected, assembled, and was hanging ready like a patriotic citizen waiting to vote. All I had to do was get dressed and leave the house. How hard could that be?

The universe accepted that question as a challenge.

To begin with, I forgot to set my alarm. Miraculously, I woke up anyway, proving that life has an internal clock. Unfortunately, I was already running late. In my haste, I put my pants on backwards.

I tried to wake up my housemate, Mo, which turned out to be unfortunate for both of us.

Mo, who had been sick, announced from beneath the covers, “I can’t go. My stomach is too upset.”

“That’s okay,” I said bravely. “I’ll go by myself.”

Considering that I use a medical walker and needed help getting into the building, this was an ambitious statement. Still, I was determined.

Then reality stepped in.

Mo’s car was parked in front of the garage, blocking mine. So my sick honey had to drag himself outside and move his car so I could attend church and pray for patience.

While he was doing that, I made coffee and applied enough makeup to conceal the sore on my nose and a few zits that hadn’t even appeared yet. Things were looking up.

Then I couldn’t find my car keys.

After searching the entire house, I found them exactly where I had looked first. Somehow they had become invisible during the initial inspection and regained visibility only after I had checked a dozen other locations.

Next came the jacket hunt. It wasn’t in the closet. It wasn’t on the hook. It wasn’t where jackets generally choose to live. I finally discovered it hiding beneath some of my son’s dry cleaning, apparently participating in witness protection.

Then I offered Mo coffee.

Immediately afterward, I realized I had made the wrong kind. Naturally, I poured it out and started over. By this point, I was no longer operating on coffee. I was operating on determination.

The cat then became a factor.

Our cat believes every opening door is a personal invitation to adventure. Since I didn’t have time to chase a panicked feline through the neighborhood, I locked him safely in the bedroom. He regarded this as a feline rights violation and screamed the protest song of his people.

Still, with about thirty minutes remaining, I thought I could make it.

Which brings us to the grand finale.

My car battery was dead.

My car unlocks electronically. Thanks to modern technology, a dead battery meant I couldn’t even get inside. There I stood, dressed for church, jacket on, keys in hand, staring at my own vehicle as though it belonged to someone else.

The owner’s manual claimed there was a secret way to unlock the car with a key fob. Unfortunately, deciphering the mechanism appeared to require an engineering degree.

Defeated, I called AAA.

To their credit, they arrived quickly. They unlocked the car. They jump-started the battery.

Unfortunately, church had ended 30 minutes ago.

At that point I accepted the obvious conclusion: the universe did not want me in church that day. Perhaps somebody in heaven said, “Just let her stay home. She’s been through enough.”

And there is always next Sunday if I can only get my pants on frontwards.