I overslept on Monday. I had been working all weekend, but that’s no excuse. It was a school day, and there was lunch to pack for my daughter. In order to do that, I needed some of the things sitting in the sink and soaking. So I found myself pressed for time, and hastily reciting my morning prayers – the bare minimum Pater, Ave, Gloria and oratio pro Pontifice (we’re not fanatics) – while I scrubbed dishes. I thought about having to confess distraction at prayer, hitting on a good closing line for a piece and dwelling on it as I recited the end of one of the prayers. But there my Jesuit education saved me: I wasn’t washing the dishes while I was praying, I was praying while I was washing the dishes. The line upon which I happened was not a distraction from but a fruit of prayer. See? Sorted. I will write a book one day on spirituality for the busy. Perhaps in my retirement.