A House Full of People Begins to Awaken…

It’s safe to say I was the first person up this morning. I slept until 8:30, which wasn’t bad because I’d gotten to bed before midnight. My back decided I’d laid on it long enough and drove me into motion.

The Boy’s birthday is tomorrow, and he has a pack of his closest friends and FOFs over to celebrate. We’ve been watching carefully to make sure nobody was smuggling in beer; EJ (the only friend of his we trust now) was reassuring in that respect. They spent mucho time out in the detached garage, playing Final Fantasy 3 on an old Super Nintendo someone brought over. I can keep an eye on things under the pretense of working on the insert (painting starts today, pictures tomorrow). Things were pretty quiet, overall.

One of Snippets friends, whom they call “BB” for no known reason, is one of the guests. She wears these plastic-frame glasses that give her a nerdy look I find strangely charming — but she smokes, and that kills all the charm. Just as well, I guess.

So I dragged myself out of bed, threw on my robe, grabbed my laptop and started a pot of coffee. BB was huddled under a quilt on the couch; The Boy’s tall (as in 7 feet+) friend in a recliner, and other guy wadded up on the love seat. That left one recliner for me. After the phone rang, with one of these pseudo-charities (do-not-call list notwithstanding) losing me to a bad connection, Mrs. Fetched dragged through and grabbed a bowl of cereal. I’d threatened to make cinnamon rolls last night, but it was already 11:30 and I figured these kids would inhale them. Oh well. I got up and got my own cereal, and fed the cats.

As I was finishing the cereal, Daughter Dearest rolled in. After a kitty-cuddle, she took it on herself to come in and start making enough noise to wake the dead The Boy’s guests. So BB sat up all at once — reminding me of how The Boy used to wake up when he was little — found her glasses, and tried to smooth out her hair. “I won’t lie,” DD told BB. “You’ve got bad hair.” Everyone, including BB, laughed.

Then BB stood up, and the “fun” began. After a stunned moment, I said, “Um… you might want to pull up your pants. You’ve got the plumber thing going.” She went whoops and yanked them up, thankfully. It didn’t seem to embarrass her too much otherwise, though. Low-rider jeans are dangerous that way.

In the time it’s taken to write this, the kids have arisen and cleared out. One has a job (and The Boy had to find his keys for him, which fortunately he did). Others have other places to go. The only noise is coming from the kitchen, where Mrs. Fetched is making stuff and straightening up. I suppose I should go see if she needs help. Or I could go paint the insert.