I hosted my first brunch yesterday, not in honor of Father's Day, but to spend time with my Georgian Uncle David. I could go on and on about how amazing this man is, and how when I think back to being four years old, I remember him tickling me and helping me "fly" as I leaned against his massive and hairy feet. And that's a lot of what I remember from that age. They say that positive, negative, and especially fragrant things impact long term memories, and I know that I never had a bad time with him. So that means he was either an especially positive force, or incredibly smelly. I kid. :) Back to my brunch...
Nevermind the fact that my mother brought her coffee pot and coffee, an aunt brought homemade cake, and my grandmother made and brought egg and tuna salads, this brunch I am still laying claim to! I cleaned, picked up bagels, spent over an hour meticulously dicing cheese, and all the other stuff. Did I mention I cleaned? Like, with an actual vacuum? (My dogs like the vacuum more than I do!)
One day, when my vacuum explodes Marley hair and crap all over every object I own, because nobody ever taught me how to change a vacuum bag and I lost the instructions and mechanics come to me about as easily as most people take to learning Chinese as a second language in 24 hours, everyone will finally understand why I hate than machine as much as I do.
Digression ascends!! The point is, my uncle called me twice, not just once, and left a message on my voicemail what was so sweet, I didn't mind having to check my voicemail! He said he was proud of me, and told me how clean and perfect my apartment was. And I cried. I literally had to wipe tears off of my face at 5 am when I woke up, checked my voicemail, panicked I would be late for work, only to discover I had an amazingly sweet uncle, three hours left before I should start worrying, and that I apparently equate cleanliness to adulthood, as I suddenly felt all growed up.