Ma and Pa Smash are coming to visit us this weekend. We are very excited, and only a little nervous to play host.
The main issue is the squalor factor. We live in a large, beautiful, totally unrenovated and only sporadically cared-for apartment. There are weird little scraps of linoleum in the corners and permanent dust on the baseboards. Seriously, I took a sponge to it once, just out of curiosity. That shit is on there. It’s like dust epoxy.
“Tell me the truth,” Sgt Lucky said. “How bananas do we need to go with the cleaning?”
“Not totally bananas,” I promised. “Just the usual, weekly cleaning. Or you know, what we mean to do every week. We should just really do it.”
Then I opened the fridge and found an aluminum-foil covered bowl that I seriously do not remember ever putting in there. Maybe elves are cooking and leaving leftovers in our fridge? I mean, I vaguely remember storing some chicken, but I’m afraid to look under the foil.
“It’s OK, it’s OK,” I caught myself chanting. “This is just how we live! Everything will be fine. We can just blindfold them.”
Perhaps we will eat out.