What was I thinking? 

I spend a lot of my life muttering ‘what the hell was I thinking?’

Tonight is no different. Earlier this year I was determined to change my story. With that in mind I decided to forgo my fear of playing hostess and offered to host a homecoming dinner for my fella and his gal. I also offered to any other couple he wanted to have. 

My offer was selfish in part-I like my fella and his gal. I want them around. Now that dude is driving he’s starting to understand that the right to do so cost money. Thought hosting the dinner would help him. Plus, I want him to feel welcome in having company at his house.  I like having him around and I would much rather have him here then parts unknown. 

My adversion to having company is multi-faceted. A-I am awful at housework. Really awful. B-we live like sardines in budget size can. C-I am not a natural hostess. D-my ideas are always waaaayyyyy cooler than my realities. E-I can’t cook. 

But hey…changing my story–right. 

So we are hosting a homecoming dinner. In my mind it’s going to be awesome. A quaint bistro setting on our back deck. We’ve got white Christmas lights to decorate the railings. I’ve got a handmade bunting leftover from a birthday party to make it festive. I picture soft music playing. My vision included table cloths (borrowed) and fresh flowers. Words like quaint, romantic, quirky, whimsical and special dance in my head. 

Uh…yeah…enter reality. 

To get to said back-deck bistro the jauntily dressed couples have to actually come inside and right over a  serving platter size stain where the dog chewed and tried to bury my daughters softball eye black. What the hell was she thinking leaving tang out???  

Even my decorate to hide flaws style of design can’t hide the armless couch from yet another bad-dog-decision. There are 4 what the hell was I thinking moments right there! Even if I could hide the lack of arm cushions-which I gallantly try and do with pillows–the massive amounts of stuffing spilling from that back of the couch would still scream look here! 

Luckily it’s only 3 steps to cross the room. They have to walk in a single file line in order to fit. I’ll have Colton do something to distract them so it will be okay. 

I decided to take stock of what I had. It didn’t take long. To my absolute horror I don’t have 6 matching glasses. Not even 6 matching jelly jars.  I don’t even have 6 matching plastic cups! There aren’t even 6 that resemble each other well enough for me to pretend I planned it that way. Marshalls here I came. 

Next-Silverware! Forget about it. Dinner plates. Puh-Leeze. What the hell was I thinking in hosting a dinner party when the only thing that matches in this house are the 6 ikea plastic child’s plates?????? 

Before I worked myself to a tizzy I thought I’d go outside and hang some lights. Thought creating the ambience would re-ignite my passion for creating a dream-like night. 

Realty stiles again. Right upside my head. The Curtain rod snaps from where my precious spawn open the back door while the laundry doors are open. It’s bent the rod to the point of no return. I mark that to fix later. Out to the soon-to-be-back-deck bistro I go. And it’s pitch black despite the light switch being on. Oh well. Lights…I am using lights anyway…the overhead wasn’t going to be used anyway. I decide the close the door leading into the garage while I am out here since I obviously won’t be decorating in the dark. 

Before I can get there something brushes my leg and I scream and jump in panic. It’s the bush. The overpowering, out of control bush that is now poking through the railings. Well hell-that’s gotta go. Guess who doesn’t have any clippers? I blink back tears. No time for a pity party…I’ve got another party to worry about.

I make my way to at least close the garage door and…nope. The door no longer fits the door jam. No matter how hard I slammed. And I tried multiple times just to be sure. 

What the hell was I thinking????

Right now I am thinking to pull this off I am going to have to pull myself together and make this happen. My fella is starting his story and if I want to be a heroine in his tale I have to make sure I give him a night to remember. Matching glasses or no. 


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