I decided to put off my L.A. trip until Monday, because we're flying out of LAX and the passport agency is about 15 minutes away. Makes more sense that way, I'd say.
Yes, yes, I've always cut things close. My parents are probably wagging their fingers at me as they read this, but I can't help it. I'm wired that way. And somehow, it's always worked out. Well, not always -- but net results are positive.
(Case in point: Senior year in high school, I was spending Christmas Break with a group of friends at someone's cabin. Around 4:30 p.m. December 31, my friend's mom asked us all, "So, doesn't it feel great to be all done with your college applications? Signed, sealed, delivered?"
Everyone agreed and sighed.
Me: "College applications? Oh my God, it's December 31!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tomorrow is January 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I'd already filled them out, but put off mailing them so I could double check everything. And then, it sort of slipped my mind. I grabbed the stacks of envelopes, ran to the car and my friend's dad hit the gas so we could make it to the post office on time. It was almost a half-hour drive away.
I got the postmark.
I went college.
The end.)
Mr. A's cousins are visiting from Montreal this weekend, so the plan was to explore the city together. He took a rare day off work and we were going to meet up for coffee, then urban frolicking.Speaking of last minute planning, at 9, the phone woke us up. "Good morning sleepyheads! We're on our way! Ready for us to pick you up in half an hour?"
Family from abroad, coming over? NOW!?? AHHHH!
We sprang out of bed.
My immediate thought: Must clean!!!
Our house, you see, is friend clean. There's room to sit down, place your wine glass on the table, put up your feet watch a movie. If someone wants to pop over for a quick coffee, we have that covered. Coffee. Cookies. Probably a clean plate, somewhere, or if not I can always serve you on a nice sheet of newspaper. I promise it's not the same one I used last time. No, they stopped printing new dates in November 2007 as a cost cutting measure. I swear.
Come on, I am totally kidding.
The house is a welcoming destination for anyone who stops in.
But it is not parent clean.
And it is definitely not potential in-law clean.
I turned to Mr. A.
"What do we do? Do you want to clean up? It's your family, and I don't know what the expectations are. Do we even have time?"
"Let's," he agreed. "Anyway, they're probably going to be late."
Suddenly, I was on my hands and knees, reaching with a damp paper towel to such dark recesses of the living room that it almost made me blush.
I swiffered under furniture, across it, behind it. If I could have, I would have swiffered through it. I was a dustcolleting PHENOM.
He made the bed, cleared the table and wiped down the glass, and bless him, he got the bathroom sparkling.
Not bad, for 15 minutes.
"Let's not leave it to the last minute next time, okay?" he added.
Be still, my beating heart!
"I totally agree," I replied.
Gained: A clean -- er, cleaner -- house. And a reminder that I am one lucky gal in the main squeeze department.
