Do you like having to entertain
out of town visitors? Me neither. Especially when it's (insert
music that indicates impending doom) family. After a long week of
work-related travel, I had caught the 2 o'clock broom so I could come home and
do what everybody has to do in anticipation of the arrival of blood relatives.
I attempted to legally change my name. And then I looked for a doctor who hasn't
prescribed medication to Michael Jackson to get myself some Xanax. Then I
stowed my carry on, returned my seat and tray table both to their upright and
locked position, and raced home to hide the liquor, paint swatches and jewelry.
Worst of all, I had to clean the house. Buying another one was completely
out of the question on such short notice, even though it might have cost me
less time and money. My cleaning lady immediately moved to Guatemala in
search of opportunity and riches. She purchased a nice oceanfront condo
with what she had earned cleaning up after me.
I will be the first
to admit that I am not the world's greatest hostess. When I am home
alone, I like to parade around naked with the blinds open just to scare the
gardener. I laugh at laundry and parking tickets of which I have equal
piles of both. Sometimes I do both these things at the same time while
calling the DJ at the local radio station to ask him if he will play "The
Monster Mash" for me again. All that had to come to a stop like my car
did when I slid into third base at the Avis parking lot not too long ago.
No sense of humor those rental car agencies. I had to pay for pony rides
for everybody.
Because I grew up in
an uber-hygienic, hermetically sealed household, I took it upon myself to take the alternative
route when it comes to keeping house. Personally, I find dog hair
slippers to be very comfortable and wish that others would too. My
neighbors realized fairly quickly that I'm not the person they want coming to
the block party when I knocked on their doors with a big PVC pipe and invited
them over to do lines of dust that were as long as my living room. I hate
block parties. Not as much as I hate cleaning or entertaining family, but
I would put them in the same category as squeezing a fart out of somebody else's
rear end to relieve someone's suffering. I'm just not that compassionate.
Back to my immediate
problems. I regret that I had to use china for these last few days. I see
absolutely nothing wrong with those Lean Cuisine trays. It helps with
portion control. I have just enough of them so that I can sometimes make
myself a lovely dinner for eight if I'm really hungry. WhenI use only one
or two of them, I eat less. If I use the china, I have to worry about
whether or not my brother and his wife are going to the Pack and Ship store
while I'm pretending to be out at a meeting. Anything so I don't have to
listen to them talk nonstop and really loudly about the Rumba.
About 20 minutes into
a seven-day visit, I start looking at my watch. Within an hour, there is
sure to be some sort of misunderstanding like whose turn it is to flush the
toilet or if we are really related. Half a day into it, we are
barely speaking. It's just like being married accept that we don't get
invited to go on gay cruises. Do you remember "Mystery Date"? My
brother is the dud. His wife owes personality payments to some "family"
in New Jersey. When she gets a little behind is usually when she and my
brother decide to come for a visit.
You are probably
asking yourself a couple of questions right about now. The first is, "where
does this woman buy her nail polish remover?" The other is, "what was the last
number they called in bingo?" The correct answer to both of these
questions is that there is a "7" in both of them. You are probably
wondering too, what we are going to do after we have exhausted all the
pleasantries, plotted to overthrow those four guys on Mt. Rushmore and planned
how to divide my father's collection of his photos with famous people after he
dies. Who knows? We still have two more days to put up with each
other, but who's counting?
That would be me.
