House Par-Tay!

Kind of.

Y'all 'member my mention of Dorian Gray, the guy I used to date who is now aging backwards? Well, tomorrow he's taking the train into Trenton from NYC. I'm gonna pick him up, we'll go to dinner, then back to the old homestead. Tomorrow, we hit the Mercer Museum and perhaps take a drive in the country.

Sounds swell, huh?

And it would be. But alas, it's complicated by my stepsister (my stepmother's daughter) finally getting around to come down here from where she lives in North Central Pennsylvania and to pack up her mother's clothes. She insisted on taking on this job herself. Not sure why.

She's sweet, and I like her. But she has a tendency to make everything a lot more complicated and requiring much more discussion than I find to be necessary. And I'm feeling her eyes upon me. She gripes about my father's cigar smoking. While my stepmother was alive, she did her best to keep a lid on it. But my reasoning is, the man is 78 years old. If he wants to smoke cigars, watch football games all day, and eat Snickers bars like they're going out of style, why should I restrain him. For his own good? Uh uh. And I hope the kitchen isn't a mess in her eyes. After all, we're two guys living alone. Baching it. I mean, it's not bad. But it's not Martha Stewart.

And we're still not sure if she's staying over. So, it could be quite the house full tomorrow night. I think this will be fine with my Dad. And my step sister usually sleeps on the couch anyway. And Dorian can bunk down in my room.

Pancakes for breakfast on Sunday morning!

Anxiety anxiety anxiety.

---