Has it really, only been one week since I wrote about my toe incident? It feels like that happened, at least a month ago. My youngest child has informed me that we will be having guests for Thanksgiving dinner. He has invited his girlfriend, someone I have met with frequently, and her mother, someone I have yet to meet. Needless to say, I’m worried about appearances. I told my son that preparing for our holiday guests will involve cleaning the house and I really mean it this time! I love my child, really I do, but getting him to complete a task can be nerve wracking.
We are still working on changing the shower head in the upstairs bathroom and hanging the new mini blind. However, I am confident that we will be able to complete that project in the next few days. In the meantime, I’ve been working on the other necessities, like putting in the storm windows. This is an old house and doing this annual task is not for the faint of heart. Downstairs, I’m guessing the storm windows are from the 50’s or 60’s. Dexterity and patience are required to navigate the narrow slips the panes of glass are housed in. One false move, and you’re headed to the hardware store for a new one. The frames of the screens are warped and wobbly. Beads of sweat drip from my brow while installing them. It’s reminiscent of playing one of those claw arcade games. Strategic maneuvers and careful timing allow me to achieve this goal, only after several feeble attempts.
The upstairs windows are from the 70’s. They can be more easily installed, but over the years, the plastic tabs that hold them in their slots, have broken off. Therefore, it is very easy to lose one if I’m not paying very close attention. Since the tabs are broken off, the windows rattle with the winter winds. To lessen their noise, I use obligatory folded sponges to brace the frames. I used to think that I was being clever with my solution, but this year, I realized, just how chintzy this remedy appears. I also became downtrodden when I realized how dirty the painted frames and sills are. One window’s paint is peeling and every attempt to raise the window, caused snow-like flakes to cover the floor. I hung my head in sorrow. What was my kid thinking, inviting a stranger into this filthy house, for a holiday meal, nonetheless.
I also found out that the woman I will be meeting for the first time, is a tiny little thing, something I have never been and never will be. Oh, my goodness, she’s going to take one look at me and run for the hills. I’m going to look like an ogre to her. Today, while at physical therapy for my shoulder, I stood in front of a wall of mirrors. I had to overt my eyes. I couldn’t stand my own reflection. I’ve never been a beauty, but now I’m the size of a beast. Then I stopped to have my hair cut. Once again, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. Even without my glasses, I could see how full my face has become and how gray my hair is. Then, I went for a pedicure. That’s when I realized that the mark on my toe, where the pot hit it last week, was still readily visible. The pedicurist was taken aback by it, but I assured him that it didn’t hurt and was just discolored. When he took the cheese grater like tool to my calloused feet, it looked like it was snowing harder inside the salon than the current weather outside. I hung my head and smirked, what’s a girl ogre to do.
There’s still so much cleaning to do before I will feel even remotely comfortable allowing someone new into our home. Her house is probably spotless and everything is well cared for, shiny and new. She will be wearing something that flatters her petite frame and bring a dish to share that will be the most memorable part of the meal. I, on the other hand, will wonder if she notices just how old my dinner plates are and will be painfully aware of the inevitable food that will spill onto my shirt, one that looks like it was made by a tent maker. Honestly, there’s no amount of cleaning or self-primping that is going to allow me to feel comfortable this holiday. I am my own worse enemy and the holidays only amplify those feelings of defeat.
In the spirit of the holiday, I am going to try and focus on my blessings. I have a roof over my head, clothes to wear and food to share with family and friends. Hopefully, that mantra will keep me going and like my discolored toe, no one will realize just how broken I am, unless I expose myself. I’m not going to suddenly be thin and youthful in appearance, or have a showcase house to entertain guests in, but I can be kind and generous to them, maybe ply them with a glass of wine, or two, or three. And, in the end, it’s not my home’s or my personal appearances that will be judged, it will be my actions, and words and those are something I am very proud to share.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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