I recently discovered a new (well, new to me anyways) blog that I love. On the surface, we seem to have nothing in common (she's a stay-at-home mom, a lover of sparkly pink clothing and makeup, and addicted to trashy TV, while I have no kids--unless you count the four-footed variety--wear barely any makeup, and don't have cable). But every now and then she'll write something that proves she may be the only person in the world who completely gets me.
Case in point: http://www.confessionsofacookbookqueen.com/2010/10/cinnamon-sugar-pumpkin-blossoms/
Like the Cookbook Queen, there's nothing I despise more than drop-in visitors. I blame my mother for this, because we used to spend half the weekend lounging around in our bathrobes, and whenever the doorbell rang, we'd hide. I'm sure this seemed like a super-fun game when I was a kid.
My mother is also responsible for teaching me that you can't have visitors unless your house is perfect. This means no errant cat hair, no stray scraps of laundry, and no dust. (Also no chairs with claw marks or drywall in need of repair.) As the Cookbook Queen writes in her post, people say they don't care what your house looks like, but they do. This became abundantly clear to me when I had friends over to play games one Sunday night. Unexpectedly, a woman decided she should move one of my couches to improve the seating arrangements. Well, I hadn't thought to clean under the couches (I have a life, people!), and somehow my two cats had managed to create a third kitty of hair under there. Disgusting. The woman immediately pointed this out, and called me on it in front of everyone. Needless to say, this chick is not my friend anymore. :)
I've gone to ridiculous lengths to avoid unexpected guests. I haven't admitted this to many people, and I'm not proud of it, but when I was in my early twenties, I did something pretty bizarre. My roommate and I had given our notice to the Landlord from Hell, so said hellish landlord decided to show our place to prospective new tenants...without notice. I was working from home, in my bathrobe, of course (I'm quite partial to bathrobes), when a real estate agent with a couple in tow showed up at the door. I didn't have a lot of time, and I knew they'd be touring the entire house, so I ran down to the basement and hid in a giant packing box for an hour...just to avoid them. True story. (Or perhaps it's a hypothetical situation. You decide.)
When The Boy moved in with me, he was very much an open-door policy sort of person. I quickly cured him of that. In my neighbourhood, if someone turns up at your door unannounced, there are four possibilities:
- A drunk from the Marion or Chalet Hotels who lost his way.
- People selling scams, vacuums, or religion.
- People who want money for a ride to Selkirk because their wife is giving birth in a hospital there and they can't afford to get to her otherwise. (These callers usually occur from between 1-4 a.m., so they're easy to spot.)
- Census takers and water-meter readers.
How do you feel about unexpected guests? Are you like the Walsh family, or more of the hide-in-a-cardboard-box person? What's the most embarrassing uninvited guest moment you've had?
Special thanks to the Cookbook Queen for letting me know I'm not alone! Love this woman.
Thanks also to Graeme Balchin for the incredible artwork.