Yesterday, Primo and I vacated the guest room for my mom and moved to the sofa bed in the basement, which is right under the kitchen.
Do not let people stay at your house when you get married unless you are really, really rich and have a huge house and servants.
And probably not even then.
At 6:30 a.m., which, if you will remember, is five hours and 15 minutes after we left the bar last night, which means we have had (five hours and 15 minutes) minus (the time it took to drive home, brush our teeth, and change clothes) to sleep, Sly and Doris start coffee. The coffee maker sounds like a small plane taking off.
They converse in normal tones.
They stomp, stomp, stomp across the wooden floor.
They open and close every single cupboard looking for the cereal and the bowls that I moved yesterday.
Yes. I spent an entire day re-arranging my kitchen so they could not find common kitchen items. Hahahaha!
No! Not really! I did not move a thing. Everything is in the same place it was yesterday and the day before and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and where it will be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Is it that hard to remember where things are in someone else’s kitchen? Must you open every cabinet and every drawer?
They are making no effort to be quiet and why should they? They are up. If they are up, shouldn’t everyone else be up?