stereotypical single woman

I love having visitors. Nothing makes me happier than to have someone come visit me. However, I am a horrible horrible hostess. The Anti-Martha Stewart. Really and truly the worst. I suck at it. I get all nervous and close down when someone I really like comes over, so instead of entertaining and making someone feel welcome I just kind of sit there. And maybe offer them something to drink. If I remember. Which I sometimes don’t. And if I do I somehow manage to use the most spotted and ugliest glass I own. Which embarrasses me further. Which eventually turns me into an uptight and anxious mute, the logic being that it’s better to say nothing at all than to put your foot in your mouth and be an even worse hostess, right?

Wrong. But let’s not dwell on the past, shall we?

Anyway, at the moment I have house guests. But they’re the easy kind of house guests. My mom and baby sister are visiting (to pick up the evil minivan with a brand spankin’ new engine), and since it’s programmed into their genetic code to like me there are no pretensions. Which would be why I didn’t bother cleaning the bathroom before they got here. Or do any vacuuming. Hell, they’re lucky I put the vibrators away. It’s all very low key.

I really enjoy the company. It’s so nice to have someone to come home to. And the boys are loving all the extra attention.

(why yes, this week it is all about spanking the cat. I still think it’s freakin’ hilarious. I am easily amused.)