After Calypso came home and had a few more days to recover, Mr. Lime decided we should take the new youth pastor and his family to a semi-local eating establishment that would be be described as "unique and quirky" not to mention cheap. It was agreed his family would come to our house and we'd leave together from there. I was at the kitchen sink cleaning up a few things when the new pastor and his wife burst into my kitchen, flung open my fridge, and asked what I had that was good to eat. I almost fell on the floor laughing.
This past Friday, after the first two weeks of school following Calypso's hospitalization and all the insanity which accompanies those events, my house was a complete wreck. School supplies, athletic equipment, baskets of laundry, and stacks of mail littered the living room. The kitchen, which you may recall was to be cleaned by Isaac, remained untouched. I hasten to add his consequences are still in place and grow each day he takes to complete the list. I had just returned home and, as I surveyed the wreckage, Mr. Lime announced the new youth pastor would soon be coming over for a brief meeting. I simply said I hope he doesn't mind the mess. Mr. Lime rather sheepishly admitted the guy was coming to our house because his wife had protested about having a meeting at their house due to the mess. I threw my head back and let loose with a howling laugh over the irony. "Bring it on. I'm not about to scurry around making it look presentable in the next 15 minutes. It is what it is." My personal energy reserves were running fairly low and I wasn't going to expend what remained on keeping up appearances.
The youth pastor arrived and Mr. Lime announced he was not permitted upstairs due to the mess but they would meet in the den. I laughed and reminded them both the new guy and his wife had already seen the inside of the fridge (which I keep clean) so there were no real secrets in the living room and kitchen. I told the guy he was welcome to stroll through the disaster zone at his leisure. Bask in the untidiness. His face brightened as he asked, "Really?" Yes really. "Can I even frolic?" Frolic to your heart's content. He then proceeded to skip through the obstacle course that was my living room and kitchen. I warned him of hazards and described the composition of various collections of adolescent detritus. I even pointed out the layer of dust on the piano and invited him to write his name in it. Having been completely convinced of my wavering sanity he retired to the den with Mr. Lime.
Earlier in the day I had received an order for organic potatoes from a farmer/patient at
An open fridge, weird eateries, a messy house, and spuds. Come one, come all.