Friday, June 15, 2007
it has come to my attention...
My adorable youngest sister, Jen, has been living with me for
almost a month now on an extended visit. And up until yesterday, I thought
everything was great. Yesterday, Jen is sitting next to me on the
couch. “Hey, Mar?” she says. “Um, when are we going grocery shopping
again?” Apparently, other people, normal people, need to subsist on things
other than Triscuits and cheese. Apparently, most people shop for food
more than once a month, not including Diet Coke runs. Apparently, I don't like to feed people.
“We have food.”
“Well, you have that spinach lasagna in the freezer.”
“I ate that already. We bought that a month ago.”
“There’s stuff for turkey sandwiches.”
“The bread is gone.”
“Do we really not have food?”
A while back I had my sister, Laura, here for a few days and we ran into a
similar problem. I only had one bath towel at the time - - my bath towel. We had to borrow another one from my roommate so Laura wouldn’t have to air dry in October. Get a clue, Mar. When people come to visit me, I think “Yay! I have peeps coming to visit me!” And then they get here and I think, “Um, bath towel. Right. Bath towels are important.”
But I learned from the bath towel snafu. Oh yes I did. The first day Jen came to town, I made sure she had a bath towel. Two towels! Then we went to Target and I got her a wash cloth and a hand towel. I even let her pick out the color. Towels, plural. Check.
Further, I thought I was all totally awesome and stuff because I secured a twin mattress for her, with actual sheets and pillows and everything. I made space in the bathroom for her things, I cleared out the bottom drawer of my dresser, and packed away lots of clothes to make room in my closet. So proud of myself! So learning! Gold Stars! Right?
NO. NO. This is BARE MINIMUM hostess behavior. This is Level One, Hostess for Beginners, Anything Less And You’re Living In a Cambodian POW Camp type of prep work. No gold stars. More like a “meh” shrug. And even if you gave her 23 towels, she still needs eat. What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I learn this a long time ago?
I suppose I should be grateful these lessons are coming to me now. Imagine CPS showing up at my door in fifteen years:
Mrs. Mortensen? My name is Officer Marshall Briggs, Protective
Services. We are in receipt of a letter from your daughter wherein she
states, and I quote, she currently ‘befriends hunger like an old war buddy
while dreaming of the touch of cotton on her skin after a lukewarm bath on a
cold December night’. We just have a few questions for you. Also, I’m going to need to see the contents your kitchen cabinets. We’ve received reports concerning Triscuits and nothing else. Now just what kind of sick twisted...
yes, but you are good for D&D runs!
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