Well, ladies, Nota has had house guests this week. That hasn’t happened since the Clinton administration.
Picture the last time: a young Nota and her mister were sprawled on the couch watching Babylon 5 and surrounded by the grubby, free-range young ‘uns, when the doorbell rang.
Surprise! It’s our college friends with their adorable clean and well-behaved children. They were passing through and decided to stop by. It’s dinner time, but it’s no trouble, right?
So I hitched up my stained sweatpants, tightened up my ponytail and ordered pizza.
Sure, it took a few minutes to clean off enough places to sit, and I had to put dirty dishes in the oven, but we made it work.
We did have a nice time that night. The lady of the couple and I discovered we had lived in the same small neighborhood as children. We even had the same house numbers, one street apart.
The laughter and childhood memories were enough to make me glad we’d opened the door and not ignored the doorbell. That was an option.
I’m sure they probably made meaningful eye contact and used a quart of Purell once they got back to their car, but what I don’t see doesn’t bother me.
The takeaway from this is to just relax and enjoy the people.
At least with my current guests, I had months of lead time. This means I procrastinated until the last minute and then had to shove everything into my bedroom. The house looks decent, for the most part, if you squint.
Just don’t open any closet doors. Or the oven.
|Yes, that is my bra on the doorknob.|
Having any guest this summer? What are you doing to prepare?