Ricky and I pride ourselves on having a home that’s never more than an hour away from party-ready. We don’t have a huge amount of clutter around, and tidy up basically consists of bagging up Ricky’s mountain of mail from the counter and hanging it in the back closet.
He dusts (which means windexes–no wood, only glass tables) I vacuum and we’re set to go. Our friends are all over 40, have poor eyesight and drink alot. A little dust, if it should exist, would most certainly go unnoticed.
The Halloween party is going well–1 opposite gender married couple, 1 same gender married couple, 1 opposite gender engaged couple,1 best-girlfriend whose husband works in MPLS, and a half a dozen friends in various states of relationship attachment. (Note: our party’s guest list kind of represents society at large. Imagine that)
Ricky and I spotted it at exactly the same time: dust an inch thick on the end of the granite bar-top, underneath an expertly arranged eclectic collection of odds and ends from here and there.
What to do?
I discretely dampened my shirt sleeve with a wet dishtowel and made my way through the group to that end of the bar. I started by leaning my elbow on the counter and gingerly nudged around the various collectibles all the while mopping up dust from the counter. There was a vase Ricky bought in china, one of those water filled thermometers popular in the 90’s, a lopsided bottle, a tall skinny vase, a couple votives, a unique water filled timer and a glass box.
I noticed there was an awful lot of phallic symbols right there in our kitchen. I wondered if our guests ever noticed? Probably not, since it took me 5 years to catch it.
Within the course of about 20 minutes, I was able remove nearly all the crud, maintain witty animated conversation with our guests, all without them suspecting a thing.
I’m glad they’re over 40, don’t see well and drink too much.
Today’s Gay Agenda: Chalk up another in a long list of successful parties.