Nope ...

I never have been able to figure out when they will be there, or whether they will be there, or, if they are there, what doors will be open.  I've lost track of the number of times I've stood outside the church, and then walked from door to door in a vain attempt to find one that was open.  I guess they figure that the important people (ie., them) will know these details, and someone that you've asked to help run the sound board for a few weeks doesn't need to be told.  (They have, frequently, demonstrated that they really don't need any help with the sound board, and my assistance is basically irrelevant.)

I also assume that the sidewalks will be just as unshoveled tomorrow, and the drivers will be just as idiotic, as when, having checked frequently for any email messages that might have indicated that tonight's Christmas Eve service was cancelled, and not finding any, I slogged my way over, only to find a note on the door saying that there was no Christmas Eve service tonight.  So, having twisted my back slipping on ice on the way over, I think I'll soak in a hot bathtub tonight, and not worry about whether I'll wake up in time to get to the Christmas Day service, if they decide to have one.  (See above for the importance of my help.)

However, that was really just the capper on what has been one of the most disappointing Christmas Eves I can recall.  Not a complete disaster in every respect, but unproductive, slow, and without much of value.  (I suppose last Christmas Eve might have been worse, but grief tends to numb you, so I can't remember anything about it.)  I don't know how tomorrow could be any worse, so that's something to look forward to.  (Well, yes, I *do* know how it could be worse, but that doesn't bear thinking about ...)

Merry Christmas.