I’m Not More Better

Just so y’all don’t get the idea that I’m some sort of more better person than anyone else, I thought I’d share this story. This happened last week to “a friend”.

So, it’s my husband’s birthday, and we haven’t had a date in a really long time. I decided to take him out to the movies and to dinner. I called my inlaws, to see if they’d be available to babysit our 4, very charming children. AKA the three Stooges and the Viking. “Sure!” they say…”we’d be happy to keep the kids AT YOUR HOUSE.”

Now, in real life, they said, “at your house” in the same exact tone of voice as the rest of the sentence, but I heard it in that deep, slow motion ‘voice of God’ way.

We had, actually, taken down 90% of the holiday decorations, but our home still reeked of holiday mayhem.  We already had clutter problems even before all 4 children brought home stocking stuffers from 3 different parties.  And there was still wrapping paper and about 10% of the decor left over from the “cram it all back in the attic” favor bestowed upon me by the men of the house.
And we’d been running here and there so much, that I hadn’t actually *cleaned* the house in…a while.

Wait.  I mean “she”…my friend, hadn’t cleaned her house for a while.

So, “she” and her kids embarked on “project Purge & Scrub”.

I don’t know why, but no matter how much effort I put it, it seems that I always, ALWAYS seem to be *almost* (but not quite) finished at the very last moment.

This was no exception.  I was vacuuming the basement floor like a wild-woman, still in my pj’s, at the exact moment that my husband and my inlaws pulled into the driveway.  And then it happened: I leaned over too far, and got my hair entagled in a strip of fly paper that was hanging over our trash can.

Worst. day. ever.
For my friend.

She dashed upstairs, shutting herself in her room at the exact moment that her hubby and his parents entered the very clean and sparkly house.  YES!

Only problem was that the left side of her hair was really, really sticky.  And the way to the bottle of rubbing alcohol was in the direct path of company.

Not to be undone this late in the game, my friend grabbed a bottle of windex from the bathroom cleaning cabinet, and did the best she could with her sticky-wicket hair.  Thank goodness for the messy bun big curls is all I’m saying.

Anyway.  She got ready really quickly, and only smelled mildly of Windex when she walked out the door on their date.  Which turned out to be really fun, AND she had a really nice, clean house to come back to.  Win/win!

And the moral of this story is that neither I, nor my friend is more better than anyone else.  Just keepin’ it real, here, folks.

The end.