The Viking’s brother and his lovely partner Annette are coming for a visit from Denmark in July. For three weeks. And I’m not concerned at all. Because I’m an adult and have two and a half months to prepare. As a matter of fact, when I told The Viking that I was a little stressed, he said “You have two and a half months to prepare, for fucksakes!”
I shouldn’t be worried at all. There should be absolutely zero stress involved. I’ve been the Hostess with the Mostess before; it’s not like I’m a rookie. I’ve had the Boss and his wife over for dinner. It was nothing! Friends? Easy-peasy! The kids? No problem! You know where the linens are, help yourself. If the chicken was a little over-cooked, who cares, right?
This time it’s different. This time it’s The Viking’s Brother, Erik! And Annette! They had the most amazing bed linens and meals that were perfect and hot buns and cheese and cold cuts in the morning and a beautiful home and everything was perfect! Most importantly, no one was losing their fucking minds trying to be perfect.
I can’t just wing this! I can’t procrastinate until 3 days before they arrive and then panic.
So guess what I did?
That’s right. I procrastinated my way to 16 days before their arrival. And now I’m LIKE THIS!
I need to be fresh and relaxed so they will feel fresh and relaxed. I can’t meet them at the airport in a full-blown hot flash, reeking of Windex and Bleach.
I should hire people. Professional people. Waiters and Chefs and Housekeepers and couriers and a Butler. I wonder if Ramsay is busy? No, scratch that! I can’t have him telling people to fuck off and calling them donkey’s asses while I’m trying to be perfect. Jamie Oliver then. Yikes! What if he serves Squid Ink Pasta! I’ve written an entire blog about my feelings involving Squid Ink Pasta! If only Julia Child were alive and available.
A mature, experienced woman would start by creating lists to be completed in chronological order as the date of arrival approaches. But I didn’t do that. Sure, I scoured the internet until I found amazing linens but that is the extent of my preparations. I still have so much to do!
- Paint the family room
- Hang family room pictures
- Shampoo carpets
- Re-Side the house
- Re-Sod the front yard
- Build professional flower beds and plant flowers
- Re-plant flowers because the first ones died
- Get a Pedi-cure and my nails done
- Cut The Viking’s hair
- Get MY hair done
- Buy a designer water pitcher with matching glasses for the guest room
- Transform the Office Cubby Thingy in the spare room into a Martha Fucking Stewart creation
- Re-hang curtain rods in spare room because I fucked up the ones in there already
- Get a complete make over
- Make more Poo-Pourri – we only have one bathroom after all
- Hang The Viking’s Battle Axe and Shield on a wall so he’s not tempted to use it on me
- Lose 30 pounds
- Hire a Look Alike so I can hide in a closet and have panic attacks
- Get the car detailed
Buy a hand gun and shoot myself in the head
- DON’T BUY A HAND GUN!
There is a bat-shit crazy squirrel in my head playing every disastrous scenario possible. What if they have allergies to my laundry detergent? What if I can’t think of anything to say? What if I say the wrong thing? What if they notice my stress and hate being here? What if they decide to go home early because I’m a mess?
Maybe I should get some Weed. If I get stoned will I be like this…..
or like this?
Probably this, because it’s me we’re talking about. And this is also the reason we don’t have a big fountain in the house – I don’t need to be wasted to fall into it.
Maybe I’ll just try essential oils first. Apparently lavender, rose, vetiver (whatever the fuck that is), ylang ylang, bergamot, chamomile and frankincense (I thought that was only for Jesus) are good for alleviating anxiety.
I can always go for the devil’s weed later if necessary.