The Visit.

It’s 4:30 a.m.

I’m sitting in the living room at our dining room table typing on my laptop.  I’d really like to be in the guest room my room at my desk top.

Unfortunately I can’t.

And why you ask?

Because we have house guest.  Who are using my room the guest room as we describe it.

Adam’s best friend Kara arrived today with her husband Daniel in tow.  You might remember them from last summer.  Adam and I went to California to help them with their wedding.  We spent the most intense 48 hours together ever.  If we could get through that without fighting I think we can get through just about anything.

So they arrived today for their annual spring visit.  They were here last year but I’m pretty sure that I hid at home while they were here.  Adam has assured me they are easy house guests.  They will fend for themselves.  They don’t need to be toured around the city.  Nor will they expect us to hang out with them every minute of every day.

All of this is fine.

Except for.

They aren’t leaving until next Saturday.

Nine fucking days.

Let me repeat that.

Nine fucking days!!!!

That’s a long time to have someone visit.  Even if they are easy and don’t have to have their hands held while they are here.

Adam had already warned me that Kara likes to spread out.  She’s only been here about four hours and she’s already spreading.  There is a suitcase in the foyer.  A laptop on the occasional table.  A phone and keys on the counter.  Shoes on the steps.  OH MY GOD!  What’s it going to be like by next Saturday.

And all of this is really fine.

We like house guests.  We really do.  And we are excellent hosts.  We really are.

Come visit and we’ll show you an awesome time.

I promise.

But I like my routine.

Adam has finally embraced the reality that I like my routine.

I like getting up in the morning and walking naked to the bathroom.  And then to the kitchen to make coffee.  I grab my bathrobe from the hook in the bedroom and then I grab my phone to call Adam.  Then I pour myself a cup of coffee and plant myself in front of the computer and spend an hour or so before I have to get ready for work.

And then when I get home I like to change clothes.  And bring my dinner into MY room and eat at my desk.  At MY desktop.  Without worrying about the noise I’m making or if I’m waking someone.

So for the next nine days I won’t have my routine.  And somehow I’ll manage to get by.  And soon enough they’ll leave for California and we’ll miss them immediately.

Did I mention that they leave on the 15th for California?

Liz and Doris get here on the 15th for a three day stay.

Who said yes to all of this?

FUCK!

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “The Visit.

  1. Lemuel May 7, 2010 / 05:12

    Don’t you know that after three days fish and company start to stink? 😉 Hang in there.

  2. javabear May 9, 2010 / 21:00

    Is this the couple whose wedding you and Adam busted your butts for and didn’t receive so much as a thank you? Yeah, I’d be a bit put out.

    I don’t necessarily have guests who visit. I invite people to stay in my house indefinitely. Oh, look! My young gay friend has moved back in with us for the summer. Or maybe longer. Yeah, it’s not the same.

    I agree with Lemuel. Even my mother and I can’t visit each other for more than three days without being stinky to each other.

  3. Urspo May 9, 2010 / 23:11

    I empathize. I just dropped off my brother at the airport. He was here for four days – we had a good time but phew! it is a lot of work.

  4. Rick May 10, 2010 / 05:25

    We had the kids for the weekend. I know what you mean by upsetting the routines but you grin and bear it. In the end you’re glad you had them over.

  5. dirkmancuso May 16, 2010 / 11:57

    But think of the great blog fodder it provides…

  6. Sean June 2, 2010 / 08:21

    What happened — where are you at – hope everything is OK – if you have started another blog – let me know – love following you and your “words of wisdom” — LOL

    Hope all is well – and we hear from you soon

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s