I should precede by making it clear that I love my friends dearly. They understand me, we are great sounding boards for one another, and I’ll probably never be able to be as close to anyone as I am to these two (Catte & Robin).
HOWEVER…Yet another fucked up situation in a long line of fucked up situations…
Robin has baby. Catte and I decide to have a baby shower for Robin and baby. Catte and Robin ask if we can do it at my house, I agree. Catte and Robin proceed to let me take care of the details. I conceive of, print, assemble, and pay the postage to mail the invitations. I spend a week cleaning my house in preparation for all these people and all their children. Somewhere in the middle of all this, Bowen is diagnosed with impetigo. I tell Catte this because her children have been around Bowen since his symptoms appeared, and I figured it would be the right thing to do. I tell her that he’s being medicated and will be non-contagious by the weekend, so there are no worries about the baby shower.
I continue trying to get my flea market of a house in order. I speak to Catte on the phone the afternoon before the shower to find out whether or not I need to take care of any food or if she’s doing that, and to make the comment that “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to have the kids play in the sprinkler tomorrow, since it’s getting kinda chilly.” She says she’s not sure about the food, but agrees that it’s getting too chilly for the sprinkler. She’ll call me back later in the evening to let me know about food, and says that she and Robin will be by in the morning to help get things set up.
Fast forward to today. I wake up. I wait. I call. Catte says that she just woke up and she’ll call me back after she has some coffee and a cigarette. I wait some more. I call again. Robin’s outside and Catte is trying to get her son dressed, their mom will give them the message. At noon (shower is scheduled for 2 p.m.) I figure that I’d better dive in and start taking care of things myself (big fucking surprise).
So the living room, kitchen and bathrooms are spotless. The windows and doors are open, incense is burning (sandalwood, in case it matters), Paul Simon, Billie Holiday and Squirrel Nut Zippers are programmed and playing in the CD player, coffee is made, an assortment of coffee creamers and syrups have been laid out, I look cute, Bowen looks cute, Byron’s getting ready to go out with a friend, all the outside toys are waiting patiently for some kids to come play with them and it’s now 2:30.
Angry, miffed, and more than a little annoyed, I call again. I don’t even bother to ask for a certain person, I just belt to the person who answered “So did we change the location?”
“Eh?” comes the reply.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I was under the impression I was having a baby shower here today.”
“Well, I thought it was cancelled.” Robin says.
“Who said cancelled? I’ve been working my ass off all week and I just talked to Catte about it last night.”
“All I heard was that Bowen had impetigo and was contagious, so we were going to reschedule.”
“I never said that. Bowen’s been medicated and non-contagious for several days now. What the hell did she think we were talking about last night?”
…and so on…
I tried to regain my calm, ended the call, put the coffee creamers and syrups away, put my nice coffee cups away, put my nice cut glass serving dishes away, dumped the coffee into the sink, turned off the CD player, and planted my ass at the kitchen table. Chain-smoked about four cigarettes, sucked down the rest of my Coca-cola, and wondered why I felt like crying when I knew I should feel like strangling someone.
I never said, uttered, or otherwise mentioned the word “cancel”. In addition to this situation, both of them are constantly and late FOR EVERYTHING and always in need of my assistance in one way or another. I’m a generous person. I don’t mind giving of myself, picking up the tab, hosting the baby shower, etc. I guess it just seems like this is the straw that finally broke my back. I’ve spent the last 30 minutes swearing that I was never going to say “yes” again, but I know I will.
I just want to scream.
Veni, Vidi, Visa … I came, I saw, I bought.