Okay, so I was up at 4:30 a.m.---not unusual for me. Despite the fact that Butch had come out to the couch in the middle of the night and would be suseptible to noise, I decided to tackle the most dreaded job on my weekend to-do list---clean out the closet in my scrapbook room. Last summer, when I re-did my room, I never did the closet. The obsessive part of me couldn't just be happy doing the closet. Oh no, before I knew it, I was in the attic trying to make sense of that mess. I finally heard Butch about 6:15 and called down to him, "Buuutchhh, I need your help up here", very sweetly. He came upstairs to the 50+ boxes that needed to be discarded. (I don't know what it is about boxes. I save way too many. And when I really need one, I never have the right size anyway. If there's ever a box shortage, we're covered)! Butch started to grumble about who cleans out the attic at 5 a.m., so, I told him that at least I hadn't asked him to help me. After that, he didn't say another word. He did all the hauling. What a guy!
At 7:30, the phone rang. I answered and a guy on the other end said, "Are you just as gorgeous as you were 15 years ago"? Being the honest person that I am, I reluctantly replied, "well, not exactly". Then started the guessing game. I finally got it right---Rich Aubuchon---an old friend of Butch and his brother's---was 20 minutes away and wanted to stop by for breakfast. I assumed that he was with his wife. What is it with Butch's distant relatives and friends that they don't believe in giving advance notice that they are coming? They just give us a call when they are around the corner. Of course, Rich asked if we were busy. Well, who is at 7:30? We told the appropriate lies so that he wouldn't know we really were sort of put out.
I quickly put on some clothes and make-up (might as well do the best I can). I came out of the bedroom and noticed that Butch had turned on lights all over the house---even the dining room (isn't that so cute---he "threw caution to the wind" and disregarded the waste of electricity and dollars).
When Rich arrived, I about died. He was on a motorcycle. I knew that I wouldn't hear the end of that. Butch has been talking about a motorcycle for at least 5 years. I keep saying "no", as if I really have a say. Since he hasn't gotten one, maybe I have more "say" than I realize. We'll see if he tries to wear me down this time.
Anyway, I made bagel-wiches and we had a nice visit. It is nice catching up with old friends. I'm glad that he felt welcome enough to call us.
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I like how you put in there that you had to be reasonably quiet since Dad was asleep on the couch. Since when did you care about waking people up with your ridiculously early morning activities? If I were in highschool, having a sleepover, on a Saturday morning, in my room directly next to your crop room, it wouldn't have stopped you from cleaning out the attic at 5am-- in fact you probably would have sporadically used your hole punch and paper cutter at the same time just for good measure! Ok ok, in your defense you did always give me until 7:30am... thanks, mom! But I am glad that you and dad can keep whatever hours you please now that I'm gone.
ReplyDeleteOMG....I was just asking my dad if anyone ever hears from Rich anymore. Is he still married?? Where was he going?? Can't wait to see you in a few weeks....at least we give you plenty of notice for our visits!!
ReplyDeleteYes, Rich is still married. His motorcycle group is part of a church group--Road Riders for Jesus. They do something with teenagers and he's very active. He was coming from a gathering in Chattanooga and on his way to Sikeston for a teen camp. Jan goes with him sometimes, but doesn't really like the bike. He's a really nice guy and we always enjoy his impromptu visits. He has visited us in every city we've lived except Charleston. He was here about 15 years ago at our old house.
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