Tuesday, January 05, 2010

Good chance of heavy showers, and maybe a stink-related argument or two

The visiting Finnish contingent - consisting of two brothers and one girlfriend - is currently happily asleep, still all exhausted from a busy trip to Cape Town to welcome the 2010 to the south of Africa, while also involving avoiding being bitten by aggressive penguins, scaring locals with whiter than white abdominal winter-flesh, more meat and wine anyone ever thought possible, windblown and sandy hair, and following a failed attempt at some serious golfing this morning.

"They ask me to tell you... sir... that there is no golf today because of the rain," the guard tells me at the entrance to the golf club at the ungodly hour of 6:30am.

(I was wearing my baseball cap on my head, and half of an egg yolk on my cheek, which I'm thinking explains the 'sir'. Or at least I'm hoping it does. Historically, egg yolks have been implicated in many a gender confusion, correct?)

I look at the sky. There is not a drop of water coming down.

"Because of the heavy rain?" I chuckle, expecting the guard to let me through, but he just looks at me somberly.

"Yes. Because of the heavy rain," he nods.

He refuses to lift the boom, and I'm forced to make a less than graceful retreat (instead of putting the car in reverse I manage to put it into 5th gear, but no actual harm is done), and the Finns retire upstairs to their respective bedrooms.

For me, there are always dirty underwear to be laundered and plates and coffee cups to be washed. And nothing says enjoying your visitors like sorting through piles of laundry and being surprised by a dirty pair of underwear that someone was clearly wearing while sitting 19 hours on different planes and then into the next day because their luggage failed to leave Europe when they did.

Except maybe the joy of such statements from the hobo-ish brother as: "Are you sure I shouldn't drive? I'm really afraid now, and you hit all of the traffic cones back where there was road construction. I saw them roll away in the mirror."

I barely touched the cones. Or the underwear.


Indian Ocean, meet the Atlantic. Atlantic, meet the Indian Ocean. 

9 comments:

Tina said...

Family! And unpleasant underwear. Niicceee...But you're having fun, aren't you?!

Ellie said...

Of course there's enough wine... but you probably need to drink it in it's fortified form (port) to get drunk enough fast enough.

Cyndy said...

Sounds like opposite day in SA! Sir vs. Ma'am. Clear skies vs. rain. Traffic cones instead of security gates (perhaps this is an upgrade and not an opposite). Laundry suds instead of alcoholic suds. Perhaps you should have breakfast for dinner. Or, just wine.

My name is Erin. said...

I LOVE brothers. I'm really jealous of you and yours right now. I think I've already stated that, but wanted to really drive the point home. You're a better sister than I however. Not sure I'd touch those undies with a ten foot pole. Especially if they belonged to my younger brother who's stench could be used in chemical warfare.

julochka said...

oh, i love when the atlantic meets the indian. but i recommend that your peeps pack an extra pair of underwear in their carryon next time...ew.

Bored Housewife said...

Love your blog!! Keep it up!

Optimistic Pessimist said...

wow...so I'm really far behind. There's been blue hair, a birthday...HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, Finns scaring the locals and dirty underwear.

Seems like things are going well.

Eidothia said...

Yucks! Dirty underwear left to be laundered and seems like not even helping withit. I would have picked the UG with tongs and forked it right through their heads, eh!

omchelsea said...

Come on... what else is happening?!