Really. It made me laugh. A lot. Just focus on the "funny" and not the "horror". Because if we're going to laugh about it years later, we may as well start laughing now.

My in-laws are coming to visit. They're perfectly lovely people. Which is not the same as saying "low-maintenance" people. Let me reinforce THEY ARE LOVELY PEOPLE, just not low-maintenance. Got it? Ready for it? Cause you think you are, but you're probably not ...

I called my mother-in-law to pin down the date of arrival for my calendar. When I started planning things, I realized I had neglected to get the date of departure. Sitting at the desk across from mine was my husband, a fount of information (if I ask the right questions :)

I innocently and almost absent-mindedly asked him if he knew how long his parents were going to be here. (By now the shark music should be reaching a cresendo in your head, dear reader) ...

My fist clue (percieved in that slow motion reserved for dramatic situations) was his head movement. Its hard to describe, but if he has to tell me something when he's not sure of the reaction there's this tiny way his head moves back-sideways-right. By the time I recognize it, the words are already leaving his mouth. (Its like someone yelling "Tsunami" and the big wave is right behind them. Just focuses your attention on the wave about to crash on you.)

Even as I was processing "Head-movement! Head-movement!" the words were coming out. As if in a fog, I realized that his head was poking around the edge of his monitor to get a good look at me when the words hit. I could see the words drifting across the room, but I was helpless to dodge them. On and on they came. Landing on my ears like blobs of green slime. "Nooooooooooooooooooo" echoed in my head, dying away to silence.

Finally, I blinked. I must have. I blinked again. I distinctly remember thinking that I didn't know enough expletives for this situation. I blinked some more. I did not explode. My husband settled back, looking ... better. Confident that this was going to go well. (Sometimes, not all the time but sometimes, there are advantages to being married to me)

I narrowed my eyes. Ok, maybe I narrowed my minds-eye because my regular eyes were still blinking erratically. I did not WANT this to go "well". I wanted to curse like a really proficient sailor. I wanted to have a tantrum. I wanted to explode in a glorious fit of passion, like when I see a mouse.

But is was too late. My internal sensor had rocketed past "mouse" to "emergency". And in my world, that means I'm calm and non-shrill and focused. (Apparently, I have a bell-curve of panic. Flat for non-panic, top of the curve for mice, flat again for emergencies. I find that interesting in a totally abstract way) I was already making lists and charts and plans and alternate plans and alternate alternate plans. My mind was processing them so fast the room almost started spinning. Or ...

... maybe the room got shaky when my husband told me his parents will probably be here for about six weeks.

This is the part where we laugh a lot. Trust me. This is funny, or it will be when I'm eighty. Lets just laugh now! Besides, there are perks to this! I am definitely REALLY motivated to get the new house fully operational practically immediately. My children are a little nervous. My husband is a little nervous. Bwahahahaha!