Quit Beefin’ About It
So last Wednesday, I’m having Celeste, Rita, Betty, Dot, and Shirley over to the house for a little birthday celebration for Celeste, right? Got the place all spiffed up. I wish I could be more relaxed when entertaining, but I just can’t. It’s important to me that everything’s looking good, clean and tidy. Set the table the day before, so I don’t get jammed up last minute. Splurged on some fresh flowers.
Everything’s looking pretty, darn near perfect when I leave for the A&P that morning. See, I get out of work at 5:00, and the girls were coming over around 6:00, so wanted to be able to hit the ground running.
Had an uneventful day at the A&P, and I’m feeling pretty good when I get home. ‘Til I walk into the house. Oh, my God! All over the floor: dirt, grass!
There’s this trail of crud from the back door to the bathroom, where the towels looked like they’d been ridden hard and put away wet. In the kitchen, dirty dishes are scattered over the counter, a couple of cabinets ajar. And it seemed like every other drawer was open a crack. House ransacked by robbers? Nope. My husband!
See, Charlie worked Labor Day, so he was owed a day. As luck would have it, that day was Wednesday, which he devoted to clearing away some of the blow down from Irene (the tropical storm, not my sister). Cripes! He might as well have dragged half the debris into the double-wide!
Now, this drawer and cabinet thing is nothing new, I’m afraid. Charlie never seems to close anything all the way. He’s always leaving his side of the sliding closet door open, so I close it, right? And then he goes, “I’m not done in there!” It’s a little game we play.
Likewise, his bureau drawers are always ajar. I just don’t get it! It takes as much effort to not quite close a drawer as it does to close it all the way. Don’t you agree?
So, I’m standing there aghast, dust-buster in hand, when Charlie pokes his head in the door. “You’re home early,” he’s says by way of greeting.
“Just after 5:00, same as usual.”
“Huh! Musta lost track of time.”
“That’s not all you lost track of, Buster.”
“Look at this place!”
“Charlie! The girls are coming over.”
“Yeah,” he says, coming inside, “I better get in the shower, so I’m outta your hair before they get here. Meeting Bud, Smitty, Pat, Tommy, and Junior down to the Brew Ha Ha.”
“Look at this mess! The dust buster isn’t even making a dent. I’m going to have to vacuum again. Why didn’t you take off your work boots off when you came in?”
“Hey, I had a lot to do today, Ida. I couldn’t be puttin’ my boots on and off every time I wanted to take a leak, or get a snack or something.”
“And how many times have I told you: the guest towels in the bathroom are for the guests.”
“Well, I live here, too, you know. What am I supposed to use?”
“Our regular towels!”
He gives me a blank look. “Which ones are those?”
“Oh, come on! And why can’t you close a drawer all the way? What’s so hard about that?”
Then, swear to God, Charlie looks at me and says, “Ida, quit beefin’ and write a blog about it.”
“Consider it done, mister!”
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
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