My mother is visiting.
I am very excited because I haven't seen my parents in a LONG time. Like, since March. For us, this is a real stretch of estrangment.
All our best laid plans to meet up this year have just fallen through. Mom and my stepdad, Danny - known together to many of my friends and henceforth on this blog as simply "DPR" for reasons that are hysterical, true...but twisted enough for me to not reveal - are nearing the inside of the Beltway as this publishes. They came with the intention of lunching with me in the District, then heading to the beach where Mr. W and I would meet up with them tomorrow night.
When we decided to have one last summer weekend at the beach, we did not forecast a hurricane. Or moreso...Mr. W and I did not; my mother's interal Doppler always minds the storm. This just happens to be the first time her mama meteorologing may be right.
Because I was not planning to host them at my house until Monday night, I did not have my home fully prepared for guests. That was supposed to happen tonight.
I live half the time with a bit of C.H.A.O.S - Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome. Last night was spent in a mad dash of tidying. I might have walked around just spritzing bleach in the air so my house would at least offer an initial auroma of clean, even if a white glove test would reveal otherwise.
So now we wait and watch the weather, wondernig if we will see the sea this weekend. And Mr. W and I scurry to camoflauge the fact that we live together like two frat boys. According to this latest email I recieved from him, it's not going well:
From: W, Mr.
Sent: Wednesday, September 01, 2010 10:02 AM
To: W, Mrs.
When would be the absolute worst time to step in Diggers’ Dump and track it around the house before your realized it was on your shoe?
You would think that it would be the time that you were late and trying to get the house ready for the In-Laws to arrive, correct?
That, Mr. W - he is always right.