Houseguest

What is the saying about fish & houseguests? After 3 days...something about the stench.

Last Wednesday, as I contemplated taking a road trip alone to the desert heat of Arizona, I received a call. My sister thought it silly for me to drive. She works for an airline. Michael thought I was nuts too. He figured out the cost of gas for my trip, added it to the extra 2 days travel time to drive and shook his head in amazement at my stubborness. People. I really LIKE driving my car.

My sister was convincing. Her phone call was placed at 11:00a.m. I was at the airport by 4:30p.m. While waiting to board the plane, I quickly phoned my other sister to inquire about her guest room. I can't remember the last time I stayed at Carolyn's home. Not only do my sisters, brother & parents live in Phoenix, but my son does too. (He happens to be living in the grandparent's spare bedroom.) A spare bedroom. Imagine that! With 5 children, an extra bedroom exists only in my dreams. (Ok, now that 2 kids live elsewhere, I do have a spare bedroom. It is decorated with Spiderman & Transformers, reserved for Ethan.)

Carolyn graciously extended her hospitality. The next morning, after enjoying a good cup of coffee and catching up with my sister, I hopped in the shower. I completely forgot about the linen closet in the hallway. I pulled back the shower curtain. Hmm...this would not do. In case you can't see, there is a hook hanging very nicely. That is where my towel should be hanging. I am clueless when it comes to guest bathrooms.

Considering the very real possibility of having to drip dry, I scanned the horizon for any other option. Besides a single roll of toilet paper, I found a solution:

I really should have tried harder to lose weight before making this trip. How does one explain to her hostess the puddles of water and the wrung out, wrinkled, soaking wet hand towel?

I hope my sister lets me stay again. I really don't like being compared to fish. Fish like water.