Monday, July 26, 2010

"I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating."

I may have mentioned before that I can be socially awkward at times. (Maybe not, 'cause I can't find a post to link you to. . .) Anyway, it's true. Get me in a social situation with people I don't know very well and I say some of the stupidest things. (One time, I was talking on the phone and used "yee haw!" as an emphatic expression of excitement. True story.)

But what happened that night eclipsed awkwardness and went the way of a circus act.

I had told the hub “no get togethers” this past weekend. After all, I was still sick and we had a mad stack of schoolwork to tackle. But, as caged animals are wont to do, when we broke free of homework around 7 on Sunday night, he raced headlong toward his newfound freedom, called up his BFF and made some lame excuse about baking cookies and would they come over? Surely, a lapse of reason that can easily be blamed on a growly belly that hadn’t seen a meal since the mac-n-cheese lunch thrown at it hours before? (Still – wanting to dish with a best friend while baking cookies? Man Card = Revoked.)

It was 7:30 when our friends arrived, T minus 45 until I needed to be bathing a baby, and my mind was racing with all the other things that need to be done to prepare for the work week. What I really wanted to do was eat dinner, sit on the couch with M and watch something dumb on TV. In other words, it was way too late for having people over on a Sunday, especially last minute (I don’t do last minute!), but these are friends I can wear my nightgown or pajamas in front of and who really don’t care if my house is a mess or if I’m doing laundry on a Sunday night, so I figured “why not?”. Despite feeling weary and not-quite-myself, I gave an earnest effort to supporting my hubs’ cookie-making endeavors by finding a recipe we had the ingredients for, walking him through the recipe, checking his dough, and trying to make some frosting to complement them.

Then, before I knew it, a three-ring circus erupted inside my kitchen and I was the center ring. My “frosting” needed to set, so just as the cookies came hot out of the oven, I stuck a bowl of frosting in the freezer. The door wouldn’t shut, so I forced it. Then, scared of what I might have just done, I opened it to peek. Yup. Sure enough! There was chocolatey goo dripping all over my freezer! All over my frozen dinners from the pregnant era! All over my frozen milk!!

I looked M square in the face and lip synched the F word. Within viewing distance of our company. Then I kicked the baby’s walker out of my way (with him in it) and reached for a dish rag. Did I mention the prime ingredient of this frosting was sweetened condensed milk? ‘Cause it was. Do you know how hard it is to wipe up sweetened condensed milk that is starting to cool and freeze? Do you now understand (even a little) why I dropped a silent F bomb (which, by the way, is not that cathartic. Like at all.)?

. . . to be continued . . .

[Title quote is from"Wedding Crashers"]

2 comments:

Jen said...

oooooh i can't wait for the next section of this story!!

Danielle said...

OMHeck! You do laundry on Sundays? jk. Reminds me of when my aunt said she was worried about her neighbors seeing the steam from the dryer vent when she did laundry on Sunday. LOL!

I, too, can't wait for the rest of the story.

P.S. I'm totally socially awkward too.

 
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