There are times when having a guest drop in on you can be a delight. You’ve had some forewarning that they might be coming. There was some time to prepare your home for company, and you looked forward to the visit with eager anticipation. The guest arrives. Together you spend some stimulating and interesting hours. Perhaps you share a meal and a glass of wine. Then, as all good guests eventually do, they leave before they’ve worn out their welcome. You smile and think about the future visits. Maybe you even invite them back.
Such was not the case with Irene.
No one wanted her to come. She was not invited to our home. A most rude guest, she sent an intrusive, advance team, hours before her arrival, making certain we were well aware of her intended visit. Even before that team began pelting us with heavy hints of what was to come, we made extensive changes to our daily lives, further disrupting our normal routine, in order to make Irene’s visit as palatable as humanly possible. No way could we avoid her planned invasion. So we had to make the best of it.
Our best outdoor furniture was secured. Flag of our allegiance to the United States of America, and a banner boasting our loyalty to the New York Yankees, were removed from the standard holders by the front door, where they normally flew. They needed to be stored, lest Irene snatch them away. She had very recently established a reputation for doing things just like that. And those of her ilk were prone to this sort of thievery.
In fact, two years prior, we had a weaker relative of Irene’s storm on by. I believe his name was Bob. During Bob’s visit he had the audacity of robbing a floral seat pillow from one of my wicker chairs. This brazen act left me with only three out of four matching pillows, essentially ruining the set. I still haven’t gotten over it.
Now, just in case Irene might take it literally, we removed the wooden, welcome plaque, which decorated one of the porch pillars, and hid it in the garage. We checked, then checked again all around front and rear yard, assuring ourselves that Irene would not find anything outside that she could toss around during a gusty temper tantrum. She could be such a bitch.
Then the wait. Her emissary, Lee Goldberg, gave an approximate hour that she would blow on in with her companions, Windy and Surge. We are still waiting.
To All My Loved Ones, Family and Friends, Be Safe and I’ll Let You Know How We Made Out With Our Uninvited Guest, Irene.