After a couple days of guest posting and a couple of filler posts, I'm back today with something of substance... Enjoy!
It was just a couple of days after moving into our new apartment when The Boss came home from work with the news: She was throwing a housewarming party in two weeks. After I reaffixed my jaw from it’s descent to the floor, I pointed wordlessly at the stacks of boxes and storage bins and the mountains of plastic bags laying haphazardly in various corners.
“Two weeks?” I asked, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how much work is going to be involved in getting this place ready for company in just two weeks?”
“I do,” she said. “I think we can do it. Besides, I’ve already invited everyone at work.”
I sighed heavily, and with a large amount of disbelief. “Alright, if you think so.”
Sensing my doubt in the success of this mission, she continued. “I have the day off the Saturday before it, so even if we don’t get much done before then, I’ll have all day Saturday to work on it.”
“Okay, if you really want to do this,” I said.
“I really do,” she said.
Fast-forward to this past weekend.
The two weeks in-between the announcement of the party and the weekend of had been very busy, with my parent’s wedding anniversary party and my younger sister’s surprise wedding the weekend before. We had only spent one day working to unpack, clean and organize the apartment, but there was still a large amount of work to be done. On top of that, I learned that before the housewarming party, The Boss was hosting a jewelry party (a la Tupperware-style), giving even less time to get things in shape. I come home from work Saturday evening, the day that The Boss had off to finish getting the place ready, and…
The apartment was exactly the same as it was when I left for work earlier in the morning.
Apparently, she got lonely and a little nervous being home alone all day, and had spent most of the day at a local craft store owned by a friend of hers. I can definitely understand being lonely, being that we live pretty far out in the country now. However, with not one but two parties to host the next day? Forgo a little bit of loneliness and just get the shit done, already.
We stayed up until well past midnight making salsa, sweet-and-sour meatballs, and a special fruit punch. We were up early the next morning, setting up tables and chairs, putting out the plates and napkins, making sure that the catbox was clean… Oh, and not to mention that I had to move and re-stack about a dozen storage bins, take a truck-bed full of trash to the dump, go to the grocery store for a couple of last minute items, and find suitable places along our road and driveway to place signs so people would know how to find the place.
After all of my (ahem, our) hard work, everything looked nice and some of The Boss’ lady-friends were just starting to show up for the jewelry party.
“Oh, okay, they’re here. Now go upstairs until they leave.”
Not wanting to be part of the estrogen-fest that was soon to start, I willingly retreated upstairs with a plate of snacks and a drink. After all, I may be an idiot for not making her take her share of the work in getting this weekend off the ground, but I’m not stupid.