Happy New Year Y'all.
Last night we rung in the new year by going to bed early. They say you should be doing at New Year's what you want to be doing all year long.
I've heard them say that. Really.
So in my yester-years I always wanted to be laughing gaily with friends while looking all urban chic or kissing the one I love.
But last night as we lay in bed the realization struck me that really- I'm just pretty smitten with sleep and a little desperate always for more of it.
So I felt pretty genius that we figured out that we should be sleeping when the new year rolls in.
I wanted to tell you the highlights of our year, like how Claire pooped in the potty once, ate an earplug and I febreezed the baseboards of our house. But then I got a little depressed about our year... And then I wanted to lay out all of my grand goals for this year but really, instead, I only want to tell about the time I almost killed a lady with potpourri.
Like, I actually lay awake last night thinking about it which almost ruined me ringing in the new year sleeping. Almost.
So one time I almost killed a woman with potpourri. I know you're thinking that's impossible or that if it were true I wouldn't confess it here. I mean, who would be that dumb?! But really, it would have been more man-slaughter rather than murder because it was entirely by accident and based solely on my ignorance.
Let me explain.
In high school we had a parade of homes at Christmas time. Homes didn't parade around and there was no chicken wire involved to my knowledge.
We raised money by having people pay to go walk around inside nice people's homes. Or people's nice homes. Depending on your interpretation of the situation.
I was scheduled to be dressed nicely and at home "B". This was a lovely home of nice people. I walked in and was told promptly that I would man the kitchen that had a door and then two walls open to the living room and to the hallway. I was to offer people coffee (check) and snickerdoodle coffee, the hostess explained as she waved her hand in a vague direction of the main wall with appliances and a stove top on it.
Here's the thing... I don't know if I was deprived or not (depraved? Perhaps.) but I really, genuinely had no idea what "snickerdoodle" anything was. I mean... was it chocolatey with nuts or caramel? Why in the world else would "snicker" be in the name? So I just silently hoped no one would ask for snickerdoodle coffee.
Of course, not long into this event a kind elderly woman came up and politely asked me for some snickerdoodle cofee as she held up her dainty little china cup.
I was in a predicament, and, not being one for admitting my flaws I simply improvised. I went to the stove, grabbed a pot bubbling that had chunks in it (I'm thinking... peanutty- caramelly chunks?) and I poured it for her.
Now that looked like some whacked-out coffee and I don't know why anyone would drink it but I was fairly certain at that moment why my life had been bereft of snickerdoodle anything... because it looked like crap.
The woman thanked me and eyed her drink supsiciously as she shuffled off. I thought, "Yep.. she didn't know how whacked-out snickerdoodle was either... Live and learn lady!"
About fifteen minutes later the same woman came by the wall open to the hallway and she politely mumbled something about the coffee being so hot as she poured it delicately down the sink.
I smiled and said something like, "oh yeah!" while thinking "That's what you get when you want the wacky drink."
And that's when it happened, the hostess came in and it was like a slow motion shooting scene where Bruce Willis dives into a hotel hallway spraying bullets at the bad guys- but instead it was my hostess talking in slow motion and involved, panty hose, aqua net and the awful realization that perhaps I'm a moron, and more importantly that I may or may not have just killed a woman.
The hostess nonchalantly commented that no one had drank the snickerdoodle coffee- as she.... Looked at a full coffee maker next to the stove.. Gulp. How had I not noticed that there earlier?!
Then she looked at the stove and said, "Oh my! The potpouri's gone empty!"
That's right y'all. I gave a kind old woman who just wanted to peek into people's homes on the up and up- potpourri.
I mean... I don't know if potpourri is poisonous or perhaps even worse a hallucinagen and perhaps that lady really did trust me and drank some and then got arrested later for trying to ride tiny plastic reindeer in people's lawns while shouting that her hair was on fire and that Santa was her brother.. I mean, who can tell what dark alleys that potpourri led that poor little woman down?
Either way, I've always thought that I could have killed that lady and it's a good thing she was not so polite that she drank all that she was served.
The moral of the story is, when someone looks like they're a moron, they probably are. And don't drink suspicious things or ride tiny reindeer in dark alleys.