It was 11 in the morning when my granddaughter, daughter in law, and this month’s boyfriend of granddaughter showed up. I wandered out into the living room in my nightgown and barefoot, stepped in a pool of water by the dog’s dish (they like to paddle — don’t ask) and said “Hi,” while trying to wipe the sleep from my eyes.
I wasn’t actually asleep, but I also wasn’t awake. I had been plugging in all the rechargeable devices near my bed. The Kindle. The iPad mini. The Bluetooth speaker. The MacBook Air. I hadn’t arrived at the “getting dressed” part of my morning. I generally don’t get hospitable before I find my underwear and socks.
And coffee. And toast. And jam.
“Oh, I was sure you’d be up,” she said. I wonder what made her think that? I go to bed late and I read even later. And I’m retired. No matter. I am definitely up at this point.
“I was up, I said, trying to find my hospitality where I was sure it belonged. “I was unwinding wires. Trying to figure out where each wire went.”
I am always willing to be hospitable but I have to admit, I feel better about it when I have my socks and underwear on. Meanwhile, thunder was roaring, the dogs were barking, and I seriously needed coffee. Garry was asleep or, if he was smart, he was pretending to be asleep.
I cannot be truly hospitable without coffee. And an English muffin. These are the fundamental underpinnings to basic friendly openness. It’s not personal. It’s just caffeine.
Now it is quiet. The pouring rain has backed off. I’ve mopped up the water thrown around by the dogs. I’m dressed in clothing including socks AND underwear. I’ve written two articles and responded to comments and I’m pretty sure I need a nap.
I don’t know if that is hospitable, but a nap sounds good right now. Anyone want to join me? As a note, with all the telephones around? Consider calling on your way over. You know. Give me a brief shining moment to put some clothes on. I could just as easily have been in the shower or on the toilet. Just a thought.