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I had gone to confession that morning. No I'm not a Roman Catholic. I'm an Episcopalian and confession is not something I had ever done. Well, yes, I had said the General Confession found in The Book of Common Prayer plenty enough, but that seemed less focused somehow. I wanted something focused, you see, and Episcopalians do have personal confession or the reconciliation of the penitent as it is called in the Prayer Book. I'd never done it, and come to think of it, I never knew anyone who did, for that matter.

I had been thinking about doing it for quite some time, like for several years. I'd always heard that confession is good for the soul. I'd had this hankering to maybe look into it for - well - quite a few years, you know, to wash away some of my more raucous youthful indiscretions. I suppose I had a few middle-aged ones, too. Here I was in my midlife and it had slowly dawned on me, as I matured, just how immature I had been. Oh no, not truly dreadful crimes, or anything like that, you know. I had just done some - well - awful stuff in my fifty some-odd years of existence. So after resolving that I had to get the load off my chest, I started making a list. At first I kept trying to keep mental notes of my sins, but it became much like trying to remember a grocery list that flies out of your head the moment you set foot in the grocery. So I decided to write my list down. The problem was that I kept the list hidden because it would not be a good thing if it fell into enemy hands. The problem with the hidden list is that it isn't at hand - being hidden and all - when you remember an infraction. So, I found myself keeping cryptic notes on scraps of paper and whatnot. After much labor, time and cryptic notes, I finally compiled a list, though it continued being a living work of art.

Once the list had grown ponderous my conscience started poking me more roughly to get on with things. I asked it "why?"

"Because at this rate you'll write war and peace again, and it will take a week to confess," my conscience said.

"Yes, but I am certain that I'm leaving stuff out."

"You can't remember everything."

"With time I can," I whined.

"But what if your time runs out? Then you'll go to hell."

"Not so, I say the General Confession at Church and that gets me off the hook."

"Really? Do you feel relieved after reciting something out of a book over and over

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