Mine were especially welcome. I have grown weary with the packing and unpacking deal. I have lost my sense of the appropriate. Sometimes I am not even rational. I pick up a clock, look at it, toss it with a shrug into the waste bin. Time should not matter.
And still, there is the loft to clean, the condo to organize, the class to teach -- the usual plethora of unfascinating activities, ones I must not lose track of.
But the uninvited guests change things for me. I turn on an internal engine for them. I rush. I get things done.
It is the hour of the visit. They come, they admire (so sweet), they place a special bottle in my new wine cooler. They leave. I look around me and there is not a box in sight. Pristine, almost. Wouldn’t you say? A corner of my personal heaven.
Oh, the paintings aren’t up and there are stacks of this and that most everywhere (and please do not look under any functional piece of furniture), but there are also neat, empty spaces which demonstrate resolve on my part to make this not an embarrassment but an opportunity to surge forward and present well.
If you're looking for something productive to do with your evening, become an uninvited guest. If I know and trust you I'll give you the special elevator code. And I'll love you forever. Really.
