CRUCIFIXION BY DINNER PARTY

Ahhhh…how I’ve missed you all, my little Springtime Squirrels.  And I mean that in the most affectionate possible way.

Before life continues to have its way with me, I figured I’d pop in here with a little adventure story that came to mind for no particular reason as I poured over song lyrics this weekend. 

Well, actually, I do know why it came to me.  It’s because as I was working on some guitar chords, I felt an old familiar tingling sensation in the palm of my right hand.  There’s a straight, shiny ½-inch scar on the palm of this hand and it signifies my own personal mini-crucifixion.  So hey – this is almost like an Easter story!  Or something.

It happened on a Thursday evening about 12 years ago. 

I am newly married to my second (and present) husband and my brand-new in-laws are scheduled to come for dinner the following night.  I could be wrong, but I don’t believe we’d ever had them over before.  Either way, our apartment totally looks like a bomb hit. 

Me and Chris are both extremely good at planning all kinds of things like straightening up, cleaning and shopping for refreshments.  But we’re even BETTER at spending our spare time hanging out in the park with our dogs, coming home to pop a record on, cracking open a frosty cold one and jamming on our instruments!  Usually followed by perhaps a movie OR -  a very popular favorite - taking a marathon nap.   

To say we are not prepared for company in less than 24 hours … much less IN-LAW company… well.  I am suddenly feeling the pressure.  We’re both working full-time, of course, so that’s always good for an excuse.  But not really when you extend the invite 2 or 3 weeks in advance, which we did.  

So I get home from work, my mind racing.  I’ve picked up some shrimp and wine on my way home and it seems like a paltry, pathetic attempt at normalcy.  I cannot believe how ghastly the apartment looks - it is literally in shambles.  Not FILTHY or anything, but suddenly it looks like a bohemian commune gone mad.  Had Rev. Jim Jones come in and handed me the Kool-Aid, I’d-a drunk it on the spot and asked for seconds.   My well-documented ANXIETY ISSUES kick into instantaneous high gear.

Our dog Ellie was just a little puppy then – still being house-trained.   She’s in her crate yipping frantically ‘cuz it’s been a pretty long day for her.  I attempt to get her over to the wee-wee pad as quickly as possible, but as soon as I open the crate she jumps out and EXPLODES all over the living room carpet - crapping, pissing - the whole enchilada.    My head explodes along with her bowels.  Standing amongst this ruinous sewage, I lunge for the phone to scream at Chris.

Because as always, Chris is not home yet since he always gets home well after I do.  I wait breathlessly until he answers, when I can start full-tilt with my conniption.

Chris: “Hello?”

Me (voice tight with panic): “Honey.  I am gonna lose it.”

Chris: “Uhhh...What...?”  (12 years later, he still gets that forlorn-yet-knowing inflection in his voice when he hears me winding up for the pitch…)

Me: “I AM GONNA FUCKIN’ LOSE IT BECAUSE THIS APARTMENT LOOKS LIKE A PIECE OF SHIT!!!”

Chris: “O, god…Lynn…it’ll be alright…”

Me: “NO IT WON’T!!!  HOW CAN IT possibly???  WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?  YOUR PARENTS ARE COMING TOMORROW.  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH US?”

Chris: “There’s nothing wrong with us!  We’re good, honey!  We’re golden!  You gotta calm down, please…”

Me: “I CAN’T CALM DOWN.  THE DOG SHIT  EVERY WHERE.”

Chris: “What?  In her crate?”

Me: “NO – ALL OVER THE FLOOR.  SHE PEED, TOO….THE RUG IS ALL SOAKED.  I BOUGHT SHRIMP AND THEY LOOK LIKE SHIT, THE GOOD SEAFOOD PLACE WAS CLOSED…”

Chris: “Alright, you are not making sense right now Lynn.  I will be home in an hour and we’ll get everything fixed up nice, I promise.”

Me: “THERE’S TOO MUCH TO DO.  THERE’S NO WAY.  I’M KILLING MYSELF NOW.”

Chris: “I’m going to hang up, okay?  Because the sooner I hang up, the sooner I can get home to help you.”

Me: “YOU’RE COMING HOME RIGHT NOW?”

Chris: “Yes.  Okay?  Are you gonna be alright?”

Me: “Okay.  Please come home right now.”

Chris: “Okay.   See you in a bit.”

Me: “Thanks, honey.  I’m sorry I’m insane.”

Chris: “I know you are.”

Me: “That I’m sorry or that I’m insane?”

Chris: “Both.”

I hang up, feeling a little better.  First things first – I set about cleaning up after Ellie, who has been staring at me with a face full of worry.   I feel terrible when I look at her sad brown eyes.   My big tabby-cat Benjamin is taking it all in stride, at any rate.  He knows me pretty well – he’s got a few years on Ellie.  I take a break and cuddle with the animals on the couch for awhile, just to get my bearings. 

I scan the room – where to begin?  I know.  My piano.  It’s truly the showcase in the tiny apartment, bearing on its mantle numerous ornate candles, various crystals and tchotchkes that I hold dear.  

Yes...yesss...I shall begin by cleaning and shining up all of my lovely goodies…it’ll be like therapy…

TO BE CONTINUED…