Laughter. Laughter.

Yesterday afternoon when I got back from my walk in the rain in my wool watch cap to get some minestrone -- a day you wouldn't go out in is just the kind of day to motivate you to go out and get a quart of minestrone -- I had a phone message from HR at USF apologizing for messing up my paycheck. The caller reassured that the money had now been wired to my bank and that I shouldn't worry, that I'd be getting confirmation about why I shouldn't worry by mail.

But not to worry, HR said, in a voice filled with some anxiety. So I didn't worry. It's not like we're living hand to mouth. Maybe foot to mouth but not hand to mouth.

This morning the letter from HR at USF arrived, bringing joy. It seems the bright new computer system the university has just installed to some woe and much confusion had me coded as a Jesuit. There it was on my pay stub: Religious Salaries. So my money had been dropped into the Jesuit pot because faculty Jesuits are not paid directly but are compensated ....

I don't know how they are compensated. They live in the Jesuit residence on Lone Mountain, which is quite a lovely building. Maybe they get an allowance every week? How do you say lunch money in Latin?

But my money has been sent to my bank and all is well and Father Robertson has been expunged from the Jesuit rolls.

I'm told he was a whiskey priest.