I have been cleaning and otherwise prepping for tonight’s gathering since I dropped the girls off at 9 a.m. I went to one store on the way home – having forgotten my reusable grocery bag, and also having forgotten that I was carrying my beloved cup of coffee, and therefore could not easily carry 2 bags of groceries home. I realized that after I paid and packed myself into 2 bags.
Since it would be a cold day in hell before I ditched my triple venti non fat latte, I just carried 2 impossibly full paper grocery bags in one hand while sipping from the other.
Priorities, I tell ya.
I scrubbed the floors and the bathroom while the girls sang and danced. When I went to pick them up, I forced them and their friends to trail after me as I contemplated the 1-sentence blurbs for several different wines. I think four bottles will do it for tonight. That’s more than 1/2 a bottle per person. (There are 10 women in the group, at least 3 can’t come. I haven’t heard from at least two.) And not everybody will have some. I have one extra bottle – just in case.
[long pause while I think for a minute]
Shit. Now I’m worried that I need more wine.
Nevermind.
I have really cleaned a lot. The house looks weird. I’m not even sure who lives here.
All I have left is the kitchen, and then the final re-sweep and re-vacuum. That’s it. It feels so …. wrong. Like I’ve stolen someone else’s identity.
The kids have been pretty cooperative. E’s friend decided she was overloaded after the long and intense weekend and went home earlier than expected, and J’s friend is playing with both girls as if she’s one of my own kids. They’re getting along great. They’re at the park right now, on scooters and roller blades.
I am irritated with myself: Our stupid annoying too-small apartment does not have any cross-breeze ventilation. We only have windows on 2 walls of the building, and in no room is there more than 1 wall with a window. The result is that when we cook, the smells take a long time to dissipate. I know this. Therefore, I planned ahead, asking Beloved to please plan to make a chef salad tonight. No cooking required. No lingering stinkiness when company arrives.
So guess what I go and do?
Make popcorn for the girls. Microwave popcorn. With butter. Butter that smells like barf.
Really smart, Zuska, really f’ing smart.
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