I was just warming up the string section for a rehearsal of my favorite number "I Have Nothing To Look Forward To, AGAIN" when Steve broke in and said, "Nonsense. There is dinner on Saturday."
Dinner on Saturday? What fun! Where?
"The Ryds are still trying to find a babysitter, but everyone else will be here by 6:30. All twelve of them."
I fainted, but fortunately was spared from serious injury by the pile of cat-hair and lemon rinds in the center of the room.
Wha... what? When did I agree to a dinner party for 14 this weekend? Seriously, do you remember that? Yes, I did try to placate an irascible Steve by offering to throw an impromptu gathering two Saturdays ago, but no one was available at such short-notice. That was the POINT. It is called a GESTURE. Did I say we should reschedule? Aw, damn it.
I actually like having people here (well sort of) once they are on my couch, but the hassle of cleaning this Augean Stable and figuring out what to make and then making it...
It's like housewife mid-terms.
Because Steve is out to get me (can you think of another reason?) he failed to remind me of the impending hordes as I consulted with him on the week's grocery needs. He did, however, make it abundantly clear that he would like me to this week make the shrimp pasta of which he is so fond (that sentence actually pulled something - how awkward.) As we endeavor to please, I put it on the list. Since I prep cook dinner while Patrick is napping, the shrimp was thawed (note: you might as well just buy frozen shrimp unless you net it yourself, as they freeze it on the boats anyway) and the onion was chopped when I mentioned to Steve that I was making his shrimp pasta tonight. I don't need him to jump up and down and say "Oh huzzah, moon of my delight!" but I guess I would have liked a different response. Do you know what he said?
He said, "Oh, I have practice tonight. I'll be out until 9:30."
Let's see how he feels about tomorrow's fifty eggs...