What if all I have to show for the weekend is a really clean house (and by really clean I mean so clean it squeaks, the carpets are all shampooed and all the slipcovers bleached and washed and hung outside to dry, the place is dusted and polished and looking pretty nearly as perfect as a house can look), and a couple of ticket stubs?
Would that count as a Metamorphosis? or a DIY?
Because, for two days we (and when I say we, you know I mean he as in my husband, my hero this weekend) weeded, and swept, and moved mulch, and scrubbed and rub-a-dub-dubbed this place into perfect godliness clean, while I rearranged and dusted and polished, and kind of helped around the edges of everything, and then went to a musical theatre matinee with our daughters previously arranged, and not just to get out of his hair so he could finish and watch the baseball game in peace.
I had about a couple million cups of tea, and went to the farmer's market and bought beautiful fruit and veggies and made beet salad and steak and wild rice and fresh corn on the cob for dinner.
I cut and pasted and glittered and lettered and got some really nifty looking banners and decorations made for one of those said daughter's upcoming 21st (yep, that's right my firstborn baby is turning 21) birthday celebration.
And I wrote lists, and looked up recipes, and plotted and schemed the menu, and the decorations, and the seating arrangement in my head over and over.
Because I can't just let details like that alone, I have to think them through, and roll them around in my brain, and sort of work them to death until I feel satisfied that everything is arranged perfectly, knowing full well that there is no perfect, especially when it comes to parties.
But I try.
And then, after everyone has come, and had a great time, and everything is cleaned up and put away, well, then I can let go, and I have a good time, remembering.
I know. I'm working on a new approach. Which is to have fun at the actual party, not just afterwards.
It's a work in progress, I've gotten much better at it, believe me. I'm not nearly as crazed as I used to be the week before a large social gathering of all our friends and family at my house, where I've arranged everything and all eyes and expectations are resting squarely on me and my two weak shoulders.
I feel much more prepared, and in control, and relaxed about everything.
It's a sort of edgy, anxious relaxation, if you know what I mean.
So, what do you think?
Metamorphosis, or not?
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Until next time,
Linked to the wonderful Susan's Met. Monday, and Sally's Blue Monday. Thank you ladies, for constant support and lovely parties every week.