Perhaps I am just an awful person.
Perhaps there is something a bit askew about the way my mind works.
Perhaps I have seen 1776 too many times.
There is a lovely essay by Julie Machado about holy priests, and how they are like Mothers, putting their children's needs before their own.
But its title led me to believe it was going to answer a question I have always had, concerning how in the world a confessor who spends every waking moment in "the Box," attends to, er... bodily functions.
(We'll just let it pass, shall we? )