Well, it’s Friday morning. I am sitting here at the computer, drinking my first* coffee and checking all the important things online: three email addys (don’t ask), Bloglines, my own blog’s stats and comments (zero, since bedtime, in case you’re wondering), news, weather, comments I left on other blogs, recipes for the day, garden advice, some miscellaneous blather, and Twitter. Gawd. It’s no wonder my morning routine takes me an hour and a half.
*Since it’s my first cup of coffee, you can rightly assume that I have not been up for very long**.
**This would be because I had a bout of insomnia last night, and couldn’t sleep until after 4AM.
Anyway, we have a very, very busy weekend ahead of us, beginning today, when friends come to stay over. This is followed by a picnic on Sunday and a trip up to the lake on Monday. And all week long, when I should have been doing things like laundry, scrubbing the guest bathroom, changing the sheets on the guest bed, hunting down the beach toys, etc., I have been procrastinating. Well, that’s not entirely true. Procrastinating would imply that I completely ignored the fact that there are these things to do. I have been thinking about them all week, cogitating, summarizing the tasks to be performed, making mental lists, formulating a plan of action- one which I will frantically execute mere hours before the guests arrive.
Oh, wait. That would be about now.
(Perhaps this has something to do with my insomnia?)
Truth be told, the only real pressure is tonight, because I like my house to be reasonably presentable when people come to visit. This means no surprise diapers hiding in dark corners, no gobs of toothpaste smeared on various bathroom surfaces, no ugly dust bunnies lying in wait under the dining room table. It’s easy to mask these things when someone stops for a couple of hours. You can usually quarantine the guests to one or two rooms and be fine. But when they stay over, ugh! Then they really get to see how you live. Stayovers involve all the sensitive areas of the house, usually the grossest and dirtiest ones. This requires much more serious camouflage cleaning.
But I have been slowly picking up this week, and while there are still things like the bathrooms to scrub and some sheets to change, I learned long ago that I didn’t need to kill myself and make things absolutely perfect when people come to visit. There’s no point. With the kids in our lives now, it’s like building a dam with toothpicks. The water will most certainly wash the dam away before you construct anything useful. So I just concentrate on the big things, like clean(er) bathrooms and an empty kitchen sink. Everything else is just gravy. And once they get here and see that the house is relatively clean, we can all mess it up together and not give a hoot.
Then, there is the cooking. Oh, how I love to be the food provisioner. It is one of my favorite things in life, really. I say everything with food. And being a total weirdo, I have to make pretty much everything from scratch. What can I say? I’m a geek. But weekend guests require careful planning, because you don’t want to be entertaining and all of a sudden realize you’ve forgotten the butter or coffee creamer. It’s very inconvenient to rush to the store while guests are over. So I had to make a concerted effort to get all of my supplies last night. I think I’m ready.
So now, in the quiet (but late) morning, I’m feeling the excitement and anticipation (and a touch of nerves) build. For just a few more hours, my brain will anticipate the coming events, hovering in the calm before the zaniness begins. And then the ride will start, and once it does, I’ll be swept along, no longer completely autonomous but part of a larger series of events that include me but over which I have very little control. It is both thrilling and frightening. And when it happens, I’ll be glad to be on the ride, but a small part of me will also be very glad when it’s over.
I like my feet on the ground these days, it seems.