...except without the hat. And the horse. And the whole British thing.
Okay, are you ready? Here goes:
The parents are coming! The parents are coming!
I now officially have less than a week before my folks (and little brother, who has long been taller than I am but is stuck with the name little brother) arrive into the blessed frigidness of the midwest.
I'm in a bit of a flurry, which is a nice way of saying panic. Actually, the flurry began two weeks ago, because it turns out that when you only have three weeks' notice that the parents are coming, panic ensues.
So I'm pretty much at the point where I just have to let some projects go till next year, and be okay with the house being not all the way organized.
And yes, the whole point of this post is to prepare my mother for a not-so-spotless house. It's working pretty well so far, I'd say.
Addendum: Okay, so my dad pointed out in an email that I'm the one who wanted them to come in the first place. Which is one-hundred-percent true, but this does nothing for my headless-chickenness as I prepare for their arrival.
Repost: A Letter to My Teenage Self
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