As I will be heading off early Thursday morning to the Blogging-Conference-For-Women-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named, I can begin dreading the inevitable string of calls and texts questioning the location, nay, the very existence of half of the contents of our home. The desperate inquiries from X that begin with the oft-dreaded phrase "Where is....?"
Folks, we have lived in this house for 5 years and not much has changed. I am a creature of habit and the kitchen is pretty much organized in the same manner as it was when I unpacked. The only foodstuffs in our pantries are edible ones since I go through it nearly every week for trash day, so there is not much lurking in there, not much taking up the view. Besides, it is not as if the bread will suddenly decide to jump ship from the basket where it normally resides to slink its way into another room. Furthermore, as I am an anti-hoarder, I do not store things anywhere but the kitchen. Not in the the garage, not even the basement (Yes, yes, we would die within a scant week should the Apocalypse ever come to pass. Yes, yes, my grandma raised me better than this.)
Regardless, I am expectant of fielding Location Requirement questions all weekend long.
I have always said that I wished the refrigerator came with a checkerboard grid, so that when the location of the new butter was requested, I could shout out "E6!" instead of a weary, complicated set of directions that invariably includes "2 inches left of the yogurt. in front of the grapefruit." Now, I wish the entire house came with a similar grid.
This trip to Chicago will be my first trip sans progeny since my pregnant cankles and I waddled our way through BlogHer 05. It will be odd on Thursday to pack a bag without toys or diapers, to make my way through airport security unencumbered without a kid on my hip and to sit in my seat while quietly reading a book. A book! In my children's defense, they do love traveling and I allow myself a magazine or two when flying with them, but I have not taken a book on a plane for 4 years now. Because that's commitment. Of course, I already know how this trip will go - Thursday and Friday I will be as giddy as a Check Just Cashed Lottery Winner taking a trip to Vegas. Unabashed freedom. Saturday, I will begin missing pudgy, dimpled arms, slurpy kisses and squeaky voices. *Snurp*
I will almost admit I am a bit worried about losing control. Almost. I try to run a tight(ish) ship around here with a minimum (bare as it may be) of rules and regulations. My husband? For someone who has the actual word "no" within his NAME never, ever, ever tells these children "No." Team Chaos will become a reality. I do dread the destruction that will become my home while I am gone, but am trying to just count it off as a price I will have to pay.
Finally, I could not help but notice that I have done more shopping and more personal grooming for This-Conference-That-Must-Not-Be-Named than for either of my high school reunions. Fortunately, my husband has not noticed the pains to which I have taken getting all Fancy Nancy for a conference comprised primarily of women.