Something which I struggle with is hospitality.
Not necessarily being hospitable. I have that pretty much down to the T.
But, rather thinking that my house has to be in perfect order with candles and smell good stuff and wine and dinner ready whenever someone wants to come by.
If you can't guess, this can be a bit stressful.
Tonight, though, I had a friend who I randomly texted and asked to come over for dinner and wine. I had four bottles of wine and wanted someone to drink them with. And the husband had to cook food anyway, so why not?
I assumed we'd have about 20 minutes, so I could quickly scramble around and get the house put back together since I totally didn't do that this afternoon.
However, about 5 minutes after we walked through the door (Sparkle Bus [the husband's bike] had a flat tire, so our ride was cut short) my dear friend called me and asked where exactly we lived because she was here.
Oh crap. Nothing was ready other than the shoes being stored.
As she walked in the door, I immediately started apologizing for the messiness. And then, something clicked. Yes, my house was messy, but it's messy because I freaking live here. I have a husband, and a cat, I'm working on my Ph.D., my husband works 50 hour weeks... we live here. So why should I apologize for an impromptu dinner?
So, I apologized one last time. And, we chatted, drank two bottles of wine, and ate a lovely dinner.
And the world didn't tumble and crash because my house was real.
Because my house showed that two fantastic human beings live here with lives and love.
I'm by no means cured of this craziness. But, I do feel better with one non-world-crashing-messy-dinner under my belt.