Fish and houseguests smell after three days.
Ben Franklin said this many years ago. I figure fish has an even shorter lifespan than Franklin predicted, but I’m right there with him on house guests.
My son and his family are headed down the road. It’s 12:56 on New Years Eve. They arrived the evening of Monday, December 23rd. I was genuinely happy to see them.
Somewhere along the line, the cute little cherubs that are my grandchildren turned into demon hellspawn. The oldest one is wonderful now, but she wasn’t always that way. One of the two little ones was screaming at any given time. Combined they averaged about four hours of screaming per day.
This is a big change from the day they arrived and wanted to show me Minnie Mouse or Ninja Turtles. Maybe there’s something in our water.
Now we have a couple of pieces of furniture that have to be professionally cleaned. The pantry is bare of anything remotely sweet, and we both feel like we need a long vacation. (They never seem to want a dill pickle or even a piece of fruit.)
Did I mention that we were both on a long vacation for this visit? I never knew they were staying this long and expected to get some writing done. I tend to use vacation as a kind of writing retreat. Maybe next time.
Maybe I should look at how happy this week has been. I was happy to see them come. I’m happy to see them go. Happy, happy, happy.