The A La Carte

So, picture this: I stumble to the shower this morning, still half-asleep, and there it is. A massive spider. Like, the kind of spider that probably pays rent. (Well, it should have been but neither it, nor my dog are helping with that.) And it saw me. With all of its eyes. Nekkid. Unprovoked. Honestly, I’m going to need therapy.

Thank God I live above a business and could call downstairs for help (after finding random clothes to throw back on). And listen, when the grown man who came to rescue me looked at it and said, “Whoa, that’s big,” I felt vindicated. See? Not just me being dramatic.

Fast forward. I’m waiting for my aunt to get here and think, “I’ll knock out the dishes real quick.” Famous last words. Instead of dishwasher detergent, I grab dish soap. You know where this is going. Within minutes, my kitchen floor looked like a bubble factory on Nickelodeon. Not the way I planned on mopping, or doing the subsequent laundry of all the towels, but sure.

Right then, my aunt arrives. She has Parkinson’s, which means balance is… creative at best. I’ve got suds, soggy towels, her bags, her dog, and then, because the universe wasn’t done, she tries to back up. And if you’ve never lived it, here’s your PSA: people with Parkinson’s cannot back up. Physics says no. So she toppled over, slow-motion style. We’re talking one of those “Oh noooo” scenes where you can see it happening, but can’t quite stop it. Luckily, she’s okay. Just a little bruised (ego included).

So now it’s me, my aunt, her pup and mine, a kitchen that smells like “soothing lavender chaos,” and a couple of days ahead that promise to be messy, loud, and fueled by dog messes. Basically, I’m on adult-toddler duty again. Wish me luck!

xo,
Ande