"You know what I think about first every time I see you?" he asked. "I think about that time we all were in San Francisco and you spilled your red wine on the brand new white carpet of the host."
Half way through the sentence I knew where he was headed and humiliation washed over me. It wasn't one of my finer moments. It was my first glass of wine, I swear. The host's small yappy dog kept jumping on me, and in the way some people can be, the owners did nothing. I'm not sure what happened next, except that it involved the dog and the hostess running for some special cleaning agent for the new carpet.
And it was so very kind of him to remind me of it, especially since we see this friend only once or twice a year. But every time now, I'll know that what he is thinking. Not how nice to see us, not how are our children, no, but how I embarrassed myself and my husband at a business cocktail party. I'm sure I can't wait to get together again.
My revenge was knowing that he had arrived at his surprise birthday party after a movie and 18 holes of golf, sweaty and looking forward to a shower and nap. Rather, he had to quickly change and entertain his full house, complete with out of town relatives. This was the second large surprise birthday party I have attended for a man, both of whom made it clear that they would have preferred a quiet night at home. I've already promised dh to refrain from such surprises.
What about you? Do you like surprises?
Speaking of surprises:
Whitney, a Japanese Chin dog, cannot make it through the night without watering our floor and leaving "presents", even if contained in a dog crate. We put down potty pads, which she seems unable to hit. (Perhaps I should draw a target on them?)
In desperation, we put baby gates at each entrance to the kitchen. The next morning, she was out in the main room. We put chairs next to the gates the next night. She climbed over. Dh rigged a shelf on one to deter her, she climbed the other. I imagine this escalating to Wiley Coyote proportions before it is all over.
The adult skeptic in me finds it more likely that the villain-turned-lovable-daddy was more likely to be a pedophile than have an inner soft heart. That sort of ruined it for me. That and the lack of a plot.
I think it is a ploy to sell the little yellow people toys.
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