Suzy Says

Operation House Beautiful (or OHB, not to be confused with the far more entertaining HBO) continues apace, with only three weekends left until my in-laws arrive. Ever since we heard that they were coming to visit us for the first time ever, I have been panicking about the state of the apartment, making lists and freaking out while John, whose actual parents they are, remains the eye of calm in the storm around him.

Yesterday, I completely cleaned out the bathroom closet, dusting and rearranging it from top to bottom. This is an extremely unusual activity for a girl who prefers to leave the cleaning to the pros, and the cleaning itself caused a flurry of dust and cat hair to be released upon my unsuspecting and deeply allergic nose. So today, I have been sneezing my head off and said nose has been running like a tap. So you can imagine how very appealing I look.

This morning, John and I decided to grab breakfast at the very popular Polker’s before doing our OHB errands du jour. In the interests of getting there before the line forms and you have to put your name on a list to get a table, we ran out of the house with minimal grooming. So it just figures that we would run into one of John’s former co-workers and his much more soign?e girlfriend in Polker’s.

I had not a stitch of make-up on, so my zits and wrinkles were fully exposed to public scrutiny. My very flat hair was pulled back in a pony tail as popularized by rawboned prairie refugees in the days of the Depression, and I was wearing my glasses, perched on the allergy ridden red and dripping nose. This is just the sort of thing that happens to celebrities. The one day they decide to go and get a pack of cigarettes without full glamor make-up on, some creepy paparazzo takes pictures, and the next thing you know she’s on the cover of the “Enquirer” with headlines screaming about her heroin habit, alcoholism, and/or eating disorder and romance problems.

While I certainly don’t have to worry about the “Enquirer”, I am completely convinced that this guy and his girlfriend are horrified by my Medusa-like hideousness and are pitying John for being married to such a creature. “What on earth does he see in her?” they are asking each other over their Eggs Benedict. But as long as John doesn’t start wondering, I’ll be OK. He’s got to be used to my Medusa act by now, and he hasn’t turned into stone yet.