I recently had occasion to learn the true meaning of the word "nervous". As in, when the slightest thing makes you jump out of your skin, leaving your heart pounding and your system flooded with adrenalin.
First, I found out that my husband's aunts were in town. Although I generally am a supporter of aunts in general, I can't stand my husband's dad's sisters. No one can. Whenever they show up, the whole family maneuvers to avoid them as much as possible. After they leave, it can be as long as a month before Grandmother (my husband's dad's mom) goes back to being a sweet little old lady. Words can't describe how awful these women are, but if they could, you'd start by saying "abrasive", "buttwipe", "meddlesome", "poseur", and "annoying".
Fortunately I got the message in advance, so I was able to work out a plan. Namely, hide. They tend to show up without calling, so it's smart to be driveway-aware during aunt invasions. Anyway, I ended up having to hide in my bathroom to avoid being seen or heard. Thank goodness for nursing - at least I had something to keep Jax silent. Unfortunately, I made a critical mistake in not locking the front door. I'm not sure, but I think they let themselves in. I had only been home for a few minutes when they showed up, so the house still looked more or less uninhabited. Otherwise they might have gone looking for me.
I was just getting over that invaded, violated feeling on Sunday, when this 16 year old girl invited herself to my house for a sleepover. She wanted to "play makeovers, MASH, and call boys." I thought it was a joke. I haven't done those things in probably 15 years. So I was like, "Sure, maybe we can watch Heathers on DVD." Sarcastic, you know. But oh, no. She wasn't kidding. She really did follow us home from worship services that night. And she really did give me a makeover. And we really did play MASH. It was surreal. I was so stunned by the strangeness of it all that I just let her do whatever she wanted.
Also, she let herself into my bathroom (at 2:30 am) and rummaged around until she found toothpaste, Q-Tips, and shaving cream. But it could have been worse. I have it on good authority from our mutual friend Amanda that we got off easy. Apparently she did this same thing to another couple, but instead of borrowing toiletries, she emptied their "goody drawer" and draped the contents over the furniture.
It was a few days before I stopped feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. And even now, if I think I hear a car in the drive, I get sort of nervous.
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wakeful dreamer