King of excuses

My hair is still releasing droplets of the summer rain, running in rivulets down my nose and cheeks as the result of a half-mile bicycle ride. The culmination of promised precipitation almost became a really poor excuse (the only kind there is) for not fulfilling a service role that I took for my home group. My group, a men’s meeting, has a standing commitment at a Bronx hospital every other Sunday evening at their drug and alcohol rehab unit to bring in an AA meeting—a true blessing that can sometimes present itself as a burden.