Nice Weekend That Shouldn't Have Been Nice - Part 2

D and I walked to the only restaurant that is walking distance from my parent's house for breakfast on Sunday. While we were there, the power went out. We had been getting anxious about the Parent Summit prior to this, but ohmygod! "Oh my god," I said. "It's going to be 12,000 degrees in my parents' house. This is going to be suck! Now it will be psychologically AND physically uncomfortable!" It was 12,000 degrees in MA on Sunday morning. I was beginning to panic. D called his parents, and nonchalantly asked if they had power. They did.

"But what if there's no power in Boston!?" I yelled. "What if this is statewide? What are going to do?!?!"

"What if this is the entire Northeast!?!?" D asked.

"Oh, well, that would be awesome!"

"Yeah! The trains wouldn't run!"

"Wait - the trains are electric?"

"I think so."

"Awesome! So there will be no Amtrak trains which means we can't possibly get back to NYC, which means days off! WOO HOO!!!!"

And then "But wait. Does that mean the T won't be running? Wait! What will we do with your parents if the T ISN'T RUNNING!?!??!"

I called Sister to verify that Boston did, indeed, have power. They did. Relief.

D called his friend in NYC to verify that NYC didn't have power. Unfortunately, they did. Drat.

We walked back to my parents' house, sweating, since we'd been sitting in the absence of air conditioning and fan during breakfast.

When we got there, we were greeted by the pleasant sound of a vacuum cleaner.

Thank god.

Mother was freaking out, of course, vacuuming like a lunatic. While she vacuumed, I started to reduce clutter by putting things in neat, little piles. This was a technique utilized by Mother when we were little. She would say "So and so is coming over tonight. If you don't move your stuff and get it out of here, I am going to move it for you." She would put things in piles - we wouldn't be able to find anything. The piles would sometimes remain in the common areas, or would be moved to bedrooms behind closed doors. Either way, you could never find anything because she would just move it.

As I started to put things in piles, I realized that apparently my mother no longer subscribes to the anti-clutter policy. Man. She had so much stuff lying around! Perhaps she just hates non-self clutter. I don't know. I started moving her stuff around and said "Do you want me to move this stuff to your room?" and she was like "No, its fine."

It's hilarious, actually, that I live my life as a homage to my Mother, who no longer exists in the form I remember. I can't stand clutter and I blame her. If I have one piece of mail lying around I go nuts.

Since she wouldn't let me remove the clutter, I condensed it. She had her like nail-kit out in the living room - you know, nail files, other weird nail-related devices that are mysterious to me because I don't do my nails with such flare. I said "Ma, do you want to move this?" and she was like "No, why?"

So now it is I who am anal! I don't know. I just thought "It's weird to have your nail file just, like, out when your daughter's boyfriend's parents are over, isn't it?"

I said "Well, look, I'll just put this over here on the couch and when you go up to your room you can just bring it up with you."

Verbatim. I said verbatim what she used to say to us.

Absurd.

I assumed the vacuum activities so she could calm down, all the while trying to understand how my Mother went from an organized, anal, obsessed-with-cleanliness person to this. The house was a mess, and I was slightly concerned, but moreso with the change in my folks. They don't even have food in the house anymore. I imagine this is some sort of side effect from wanting-to-move.

I cleaned, put things in piles, drank 40 glasses of water, had nervous fits, and couldn't unlock the door when the doorbell rang.

They walked in and exchanged introductions.

While my Mother talked to various aunts about her doll collections (who knew they had this in common?) and with D's Mother about his not eating enough vegetables, Father showed software to D's Father and they exchanged business cards and were both thrilled to learn that they were both PE's! Wow! I showed the aunts and D's Mother some photos. I had, on a whim, brought two photo albums - one with photos from Buenos Aires and another with a random collection of photos I've taken during the last six months, complete with photos from my trip to Orlando.

D's Mother was happy to see photos I'd taken of her granddaughters, and I was peeved to learn that D had not sent the photos to her or to his brother. I had been slightly distressed that they never commented on them or thanked me for them. I have to admit that the photos are good - so I was surprised that they had nothing to say. Well, they had nothing to say because they'd never seen them. Hmph.

The Aunts and D's Mother loved the photos of the grandchildren, and thought my photography was good. Sweet!

Then came the awkward but necessary portion of the visit when my parents volunteer me to play piano for the guests!

This always reminds me of period pieces in which visitors arrive and the eldest daughter, who is shy and spinsterly but who plays lovely piano, has to sit down and play piano while the women gossip and the men smoke and talk business. Of course she is then noticed by the young gentleman visitor who is in town tidying up his deceased grandmother's estate or something.

Nevertheless... throughout history, this has been me, and throughout history I have resisted and thrown fits because I, as you all know, can't play piano in front of people. I can't really do anything in front of people. Insecure, nervous, worried.

I said "I'd love to, but I have no sheet music here," which was actually the truth.

My Mother said "No! Play 'Lullaby!' I heard you playing it this morning and it was lovely." Yes, I'd been playing it but I don't actually know it. I was just improvising when I noticed that D had fallen asleep while listening to me play. You can't improvise in front of two sets of parents and three aunts when you have heart-attack-inducing-fear-of-public-anything.

"What about Chopin's 'Etude'?" D's eldest aunt said, and then she hummed a bit.

"I don't know... I knew it once... but I haven't played it in years and there is no sheet music here."

I said I'd see what I could find, and voila! The only sheet music I had remaining at my parents' house was Chopin's "Etude." What are the odds?

I played it. I shook the whole time and butchered it. I don't think the audience noticed. I think D was proud.

Surreal, I tell you. Surreal.

We headed into Boston after our parents exchanged enthusiastic farewells, where we ate a late lunch at Fire and Ice. We were joined by Sister (so nice to see her!) and then walked around the Harvard campus, where D's Mother and Aunts took pictures with the statue of John Harvard. We headed into the city via the Red Line and walked through the Common and Public Gardens. We then headed to the Esplanade to walk along the river but ended up running to the T because it was pouring. The temperature had dropped about 20 degrees since the morning and the family wanted to "see Boston" but what do you do in one hour in annoying weather? I had no idea. I kept saying "What do you want to do?" and they were like "We don't know. We've never been here." I said "You really need, like, a day." D's father kept saying "They just want to take pictures" which is why I decided on the Common because - The State House! Cheers! Pretty flowers! The Hatch! I said "You really should come back and walk the Freedom Trail. That would be nice."

Yeah. I think they hated Boston. But its not my fault, because how can you see a city in two hours on a gross day? Not my fault!