Monday, June 29, 2009

Yesterday, We Almost Went to the Gay Pride Parade, But Then We Didn't.

In Urburbia, no one knocks on your door. Downtown condos have front desks and security guards. No one gets through without you knowing about it first.

Let me set this up properly. Yesterday, I had a little back trouble. Nothing serious just the usual I'm getting old and I did too much yoga with way too much time inbetween yoga attempts and the ever popular stunt - deciding to make a drum while sitting on the floor for hours while in the midst of a sciatica attack. You know what I mean.

So anyway, my wonderful husband who has the largest penis in the world went out to buy me various back remedies including but not limited to a heating pad. I was doing the most awesome thing one does on a Sunday afternoon which involved blankets pillows and closed eyes. I was just drifting off when the phone rang. Yes, it was the front desk announcing a visitor. The visitor was actually for Dave and I told Visitor that Dave wasn't here (seriously I have no idea what I told him . I may have mentioned something about morphing attack albino bunnies ) but I do remember giving the guy dave's cell number and then I collapsed back in my bed, hoping to recapture the bliss of The Sunday Afternoon Nap. Next thing you know, Dave's cellphone is ringing because it was sitting on the nightstand. So much for the nap.

Later after giving up on the nap idea and instead watching HBO and enjoying a glass of wine (medicinal, people) with the husband, there was a knock on the door. No, I think it was three knocks actually. It went like this: Knock, knock knock.

Dave and I looked at each other, blinking, speechless. I said "Is that someone knocking?" because reality checks are a matter of course with me. Dave continued with the blank look thing, so I said "Who could that be?"

Finally Dave spoke, "Maybe it's those neighbors who wanted to see our kitchen reno." He had his voice volume turned down low, you know, so it could be mistaken for white noise or maybe even Muzac, but I heard him alright. I said, "Did you invite them to come over today?" I said this because I vagely remembered Dave telling me he met some neighbors who wanted to see our kitchen because they were going to reno theirs but I had filed this in the Someday folder.

Dave said "Um, I might have." And then he started saying something about talking to them on the roof the other day and something about he might have been drunk and forgot but I wasn't listening because I was busy throwing the bed together as whoever it was who was knocking at the door was coming in specifically to inspect the condo. As in, really look at things.

By the 65th knock we had the house pulled together and we looked out the peep hole and then unlocked the twenty-five locks all but the chain lock and Dave opened the door carefully while I stood behind him with a cast iron frying pan and a Swiss Army knife because they don't allow guns in Canada so we threw open the door and warmly welcomed our new neighbor friends into our lovely home.

Anyway, despite the fact that they are lovely lovely people and they just gushed over our place and then joined us in the wine drinking, we learned a little lesson today and it is one I would now like to share with you so that you can later claim that you have at least one legitimate reason for reading this blog, as in you learn valuable life lessons or something. Ok, here we go. Pay attention. There are the kinds of people you can extend invitations to while you are slightly inebriated and barbecuing on the roof. But you must remember this - there are those who will (a) remember and (b) actually take you up on the invitation so here's my advice to you:

1. Always make your bed.
2. Always have extra wine.
3. Never let your husband go to the rooftop unless (a) he takes the Breathalyzer and/or (b) you go too.
4. Say nice things about your husbands penis so that you get back rubs and heating pads.


Please attach soul and sign in blood. Thank you, The Management