"There's been a change of plans."
I don't know about you, but each time my mom tells me that, I get a sinking sensation in my stomach. This time was no different.
"Instead of having you come and get Blue, we'll just bring him to you, and then crash at your place that night on our way to [latest vacation locale.]"
I realize that my parents mean well. They're thinking that they are retired, and that it's easier for them to bring me Blue to dogsit (as I offered) when they go on vacation instead of having me come and get him. They're saving me a six hour round-trip drive. I appreciate that kindness and consideration. It's the last part of the sentence that makes me break out in hives - specificially the "crash at your place that night" part.
My place is tiny. Like, I have seating for six people in my living room if people are willing to squeeze. Like, it's about ten Emily steps from my front door to my kitchen. Like the door to my backyard through my kitchen hits the stove when you open it. I picture my dad (who is not a small man) being supremely uncomfortable.
And now my parents are coming. More specifically, my mother is coming.
And all of a sudden the clothes that I have folded, but never bothered to put away and are currently stacked on every available space in my bedroom* scream at me for the messiness that needs to be straightened. All the school books scattered in my living room must be gathered and shelved. The recliner that I haven't seen in months that is currently holding clothes that have no home? Need to clear it. The bags of items that are currently waiting to be taken to Goodwill? Need to be taken. Bedspread? Needs to be washed. The list is endless. After all "mom clean" is a completely different thing than "acceptable for Emily" clean.
And here's the thing. My place really isn't messy. It's just not deep-clean-I'm-comfortable-with-my-mother-seeing-it clean.
And then there are the sleeping arrangements. Luckily, I have a queen sized bed (that's too big for my bedroom, but that I wasn't willing to part with) that I can give to my parents while I relocate to the couch for a night. Unluckily, I only have air conditioning in my living room. Did I mention that my parents were coming in May? Like, in the spring when it's getting warm? Oh, and did I mention that last summer I used to shower at night and go to sleep with wet hair to help with keeping cool at night? Even with the open window with fan? (Which reminds me, I need new pillows...)
Oh, and did I mention that being really warm at night is a trait that I genetically inherited from my father?
So I called my father and voiced my concerns. "No problem at all," he said, "I'll just sleep on your couch in the living room."
Have I mentioned that my father is not a small man?
And that is how the boy came to find out that part of his Saturday this weekend will be spent hanging a ceiling fan in my bedroom.
Part of me is thrilled that I get to spend this unexpected time with my parents. That we can go on a walk, that I can show them where I eat, where I hang out....that they can see a glimpse of my daily life and know that I'm doing just fine.
But the other part of me? REALLY wishes that I had a self-cleaning house.**
*special thanks to Candy for not judging me on the messiness of my bedroom. or was it punkinmama? I can't remember. Either way, I wasn't judged and I love you for it.
**At least they're coming after finals.