On Busy, Busy Company Coming:

I’ve been trying to help the local flood victims clean up and do my own Autumn cleaning. And on top of that my Dad and Step-mom are coming to visit for a few days.

Yes, despite my long years on this planet all my parents are still alive.

To see them you would not take them for their ages and in some ways you’d think them younger than me. (I’m a bit bent over and slow right now from hauling and cleaning stuff this past week.)

They’ll arrive on Friday and will be staying through the weekend. So I must not just set the air mattress out in the parlor for them like I do for the kids when they come. I give Dan and Step-mom my big, dark, high, ornate, bed so my Dad doesn’t have to get up from the floor in the morning. They just have to use the stool to get into it at night.

This means clearing out my bedroom so as not to scare them to death with my Gothy décor. Like skulls on the bed finials and such stuff. Not that it is strictly necessary to remove them, but it is an excuse to give the room a good Autumn clean out.

So down comes the well cultivated cobwebs. Banished is the dust too thick to write on in the corners. (Yes, you can have dust too thick. It falls back down into the cleared space where you just tried to write in it and it puffs up in clouds in your face.)

My bottles of spider’s eyelashes and such stuff and my caldron get moved into the closet, along with my dead flowers and plants. My mourning pictures and the ones of the moon through clouds and bare branches come down to be cleaned behind as well and my dead stuffed animals too.

My collective parents, (Mom Dad and Stepmom.) are old school Christian and they love me in their way, although they do not like my life choices. So we compromise and they come when I’m doing my Autumn cleaning so that they don’t have to see all my Gothiness all at once.

I love them so I have some of my stuff down and out of the way for more days than just cleaning would necessitate. I cut back on the face paint and wardrobe too because, why have that time old discussion about style when, we can have a good time doing other things before they are gone. (I’m no kid anymore. Just one of their kids. There are nine of us altogether and why should I be the troublesome one besides the strangest.)

So if you were looking for me I was in my vanilla clothing getting it all dirty and torn, cleaning up Deathwatch Manor and then some. (Boy, I wish I could keep some servants around here. But they will clean things up a little ‘too’ clean for my tastes.)