Today around 5 PM the fabulous and mysterious Ms. Celia Plimco will be rolling into town and pulling up at MY HOUSE.
I cannot tell you how nervous I am. I mean, what if she thinks I'm boring? What if she thinks I'm not as sexy in person as I am over email? What if she has second thoughts about having my love child? That'll be incredibly disappointing. I've got a name picked out and everything. Roderigo. Roderigo the Love Child.
Plimco is only the third blogger that I will have met in person. Obviously I'm not counting my friends whom I convinced to start blogs themselves. Or friends whose blogs I discovered by accident. They do not count. They already know that I'm not sexy and they've already refused to have my love children. And they don't like the name Roderigo, either. They are all, to a one, lovely, lovely people, just cursed with an unfortunate dislike of exquisitely perfect names.
So, I'm sitting here. Excited. Only my third blogger. Really, you people are not so much flocking to me as trickling. Kind of like the way blood trickles from a stone when you squeeze it. So, yeah. I'm excited. So excited, in fact, that I'm wiggling my left leg. I cannot keep still. I'm so excited that I don't even mind anymore that only 2 people commented on the Triumpant Conclusion to my Epic Breastfeeding Query (finished, I might add, on first day of World Breastfeeding Month). I've got bigger things to think about. I've got an actress coming to stay in my house. With her enormous, gigantic, fluffy bucket of a dog. I'm almost as excited as I was when Lauri came back to visit after an absence of almost a year. I'm leaving work early to get my kia from the shop (long story, that) and go to the Indian Market to pick up some paneer so I can make her saag paneer and vegetable korma. I'm thinking I will stop at the restaurant around the corner and pick up samosas and pretend that I made them myself. (I CAN make samosas -- I just don't have enough time today -- so it's not REALLY a lie). I have to clean the kitchen, and make her bed, and scrub the shower that can hold 4 adults at a time. I can't skimp on the shower. Because the shower is the only reason she has made this epic journey from the East Coast. I mean, she made a little side jaunt to some piddly little family reunion or some such nonsense. And other bloggers have been jumping in her way and then claiming that she journeyed to see THEM. But mainly she's on this trip to see the gigantic shower that I built. I can't disappoint her.
PS - does anyone know how to tell what model of sound card one has in their computer without looking at the motherboard? This is complicated by the fact that the computer is 4 years old and I can't locate any of the disks that came with it (it's a computer borrowed from the defunct non-profit that used to work out of my basement.) When I was cleaning old files and programs from the hard drive apparantly I accidentally uninstalled the driver for the sound card and that particular sound card has a BILLION different drivers depending on which model it is. And now when I load up iTunes all the music sounds like it's being sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks. Definitely not the kind of mood I want to set for the creation of my love child...