See, the big yearly service project for our stake is to go to the vineyard and pick grapes, because we have a vineyard. I guess it has something to do with living in the raisin capital of the world. We really hated the idea of going, because it required waking up early to do farmwork, two of our least favorite things. It made things worse when they had a presentation on how to pick grapes at church on Sunday, because we tend to shy away from things involving knives and/or black widows.
Still, if someone from the ward called offering to drive us, I think it would have been possible to convince us to go, but no one from the ward did. Mom, however, when she called last night, asked us if we wanted a ride. By this time, it would have been too late to work ourselves up to it, because it was already ten at night, and if we wanted any hope of a decent amount of sleep we would have had to go to bed right then. Also, as has been mentioned before, we try to avoid doing things with Steve. So I started making excuses.
Now, I really don't like to think of myself as the type to make excuses to get out of things, so I like to think that my first response was to just come out and say we didn't want to, but I don't remember. At any rate, when you start making excuses, it becomes a battle of wills--one person trying to wear the other out with excuses, while the other tries to withstand all of them--and I managed to keep talking long enough that we didn't have to go.
So maybe it's the lack of blessings from service that's making me feel so blah right now. But the idea of going to this barbecue is actually rather unappealing as well. Maybe because it's getting in the way of doing things that we know will take the blahness away.