Salt of the earth

On Sunday morning I heard my wife giving out to my football playing eleven year old who had somehow managed to get muddy water all over the front door which my wife had cleaned during the previous week. [Editor: Really?  Who cleans a front door?  Catholicus Nua: Womem, apparently.]

I thought little of it.  Then that evening decided to go to Mass - it was Easter Sunday and the whole family, for the first time, had gone to the Easter Vigil, but I fancied a Mass on Easter Sunday itself.  I looked at the door, then I noticed the front of the car, similarly marked, the windows of the front room. Not muddy, but more white.  A sort of white passover.  And it dawned on me.  I have a tradition, inherited from my childhood.  Get a bottle of Easter water at the Vigil and as soon as you come home you bless the house, outside and in (and the car). 

All I can is my parish priest must have used a hell of a lot of salt in the Easter water.