I’m so excited! Next week at this time, my blogging buddies Julie, of 47 and Starting Over fame, and Travel Girl Dar will be here in Las Vegas. Yay! They’re staying here with me in my apartment, which I’m totally psyched about because I love having company. Plus that gives me a good reason to super-clean without having to pretend that Princess Di and JFK, Jr. came back to life and are coming for dinner.
I haven’t met these girls before, but geez, you may ask, isn’t it risky to put up complete strangers? Hell, no! I’ve been reading their blogs for months and know I’m going to love them. If anything, they have more to worry about than I do.
You see, I’m not normal.
Don’t get me wrong, I am nice as hell—if you knew me in real life, you wouldn’t freakin’ LOVE me! I think my problem is that I’m not at all materialistic and therefore I don’t quite live like a fully grown-up adult.
Remember this picture of my living room?
Yeah, well, my kitchen isn’t any better. Let me give you a little more insight into Linda-Land. We’ll start with my refrigerator--visitors always have a field day with that.
Empty, I know, but in my defense, there’s usually a six-pack of Moose Drool or Young’s Chocolate Stout in there. I need to go grocery shopping. What’s that on the top shelf, you ask? Oh, that’s a can of spotted dick. My sister Lori gave me that for my 50th birthday. I would never eat it (aside from the fact that it’s a year and a half old); it’s just for show. Sometimes I bring it to work and leave it front and center in the fridge in the break room. For fun.
My freezer isn’t any better: cheese ravioli (my favorite food on earth), some shrimp stir-fry, and a bag of ice. I don’t know where that came from; I don’t use ice. Usually there’s ice cream in there, but I told you, I need to go shopping.
Here’s my food cupboard. Yes, that’s it. But in my defense, I usually have about four boxes of Organic Morning Light cereal on the top shelf—I told you, I need to go shopping. You’ll see, however, that I do have an ample supply of Healthy Request soup. And vitamins. I know--I’m a health nut, huh?
Sometimes when people come to my place, they get the big idea that they’re going to cook for me. They come home with bags of groceries and start flitting around my kitchen and then start asking ridiculous questions like, “Where do you keep your cheese grater?” or “Do you have a wisk?”
A wisk? Seriously?
And then they get all bent out of shape because I don’t have a sharp knife. I do have knives—look! They were a wedding present when my first husband and I got married in 1977. I’ve never actually sharpened them, though. But in my defense, hello? Does any of my food look like it actually needs to be cut?
Sometimes people ask if I have a cutting board, and you know what? I used to, but I swear it mysteriously disappeared about a year ago after some visitors came to stay. I like to think that maybe a well-meaning guest put it somewhere when emptying my dishwasher and I just haven’t been able to find it, but I really have looked for it and I can only conclude that after I become a famous author it will end up on eBay and someone will be sitting on a tidy little profit.
Okay, so whatever--I’m not normal. My boyfriend says he feels like he’s with a college student (which I take as a compliment). “Is that a futon?” he asked one night as we stood in my guestroom. “You’re so cute!” But in my defense, I’m just not materialistic. (BTW, my car is totally going to hit 200K today!!!)
I don’t care about things; I’d rather do stuff than have stuff. I mean, look at the outside of my refrigerator.
What a cool magnet collection of my travels, huh? See, sometimes it’s not what’s on the inside that counts.
Believe me, when I’m 102 years old, I am not going to look back and go, “Oh, man, my life would have been perfect if only I had a nicer couch that didn’t have a stain on it” or "Maybe I should have splurged for a soup ladle." No, I am gonna remember all the fun times and adventures I had with my family and my friends, like Julie and Dar.
If they’re still coming.