The one, the only...Collette Costa!
At first we only saw shoes, then calves in tights, the beginning of a black skirt, and Mick blurts out, "There she is! There's Collette." And then a woman with waist-length blonde hair descended on the escalator. So not Collette. I had my doubts with the matchy-matchy black outfit.
I feel special and so honored because we have at last had a visit from Collette, a remarkable woman we have known for years, and SHE STILL TALKS TO US. We can say that about so few. Not only that, but Collette is an intelligent person, and WE CAN SAY THAT ABOUT SO FEW!
While she is still talking to us, I will be interested to see if she ever overnights with us again. Luckily, she has about a year for the experience to fade from her memory...(that's assuming that she travels home to beautiful Detroit, Michigan again next Christmas). I expect many late nights, music festivals, and cocktails to aid her in this endeavor.
Collette is my favorite sort of guest. All I have to say is, "Here's the refrigerator, here's the bathroom, here's where you're sleeping...any questions? Great, make yourself at home". And she knows that I mean that and she knows that I'm not going to fuss over her, I'm not going to wait on her, and if she can't find something, she can either ask of just plain snoop. I'm not a great hostess. I wish I were, but not enough to actually strive to be. I also get very little practice. Plus, the people who have stayed with us are family or close enough to family to not require fussing.
So here is what Collette got: on night number one, we thought that it would be best if Collette stayed in Sam's room and Sam slept in Miranda's room because SAM ALWAYS WANTS TO STAY IN MIRANDA'S ROOM. Except that night.
So what happened is this: Miranda made up both beds, Sam went to bed, and then an hour later when Miranda went to bed, it was to discover that Sam had switched beds with Miranda. Miranda had been kicked out of her nest, all her blankets thrown onto the other bed because Sam only likes one blanket and a particular one at that. Miranda didn't want to switch for two reasons. One, her former nest had no waterproof pads on it and Miranda doesn't particularly need waterproof pads except if she decides to dump a glass of water or something in her bed. Two, Miranda's former nest had the memory foam topper on it and Sam's no fool. She wanted the comfy bed.
So here is what happened: Miranda made her switch back, Sam was having none of it. Sam picked up her blanket and pillow and headed for the couch. Mick and I were having none of it because there was a fire in the woodstove and you all know how THAT story goes with our little pyro-daughter. Plus, since she'd taken the couch, that left the love seat or recliner and neither of us is that much of a masochist. SO, Mick opens his mouth and tell her to come lie down in our bed, so that when I step out of the shower five minutes later, I HAVE NO KING-SIZED BED TO SLEEP IN. And I'm not sleeping on the couch.
So to Miranda's room I go. Where I immediately re-discover why I have a memory foam mattress topper on our bed. Yes, I'm a big whiney baby with lots of aches and pains and that is why my half of that king-sized bed resembles Miranda's nest: five pillows for me, two for Mick, and extra blankets on my side (which he had the nerve to complain about this weekend, saying that MY blankets on MY side make him too hot because they hold too much heat in and that is why he has to throw off the blankets, to which I say "fine, I'm not going to be cold").
Story doesn't end there, even though it should because I'm being long-winded. Middle of the night, Sam wakes up and throws Mick out and he ends up on the couch. Then she keeps getting up and opening the door to her room to glare at that intruder (yes, Collette, Mick and I invited you to stay, but Sam did not), and every time she opened the door, THAT WOMAN WAS STILL THERE. So Sam decided to be herself and watch Toy Story bonus features at top volume in our room from the middle of the night onward, where the sound reverberated throughout the household.
The next morning, Miranda looks at us like we're idiots and says, "Why didn't you wake me up? You could have had my bed and I would have slept with Sam." Miranda not-so-secretly covets our bed.
Night number two: I decide we need a large bottle of wine because I haven't been able to sit and enjoy a bottle of wine with Collette in ages. We start a True Bloodmarathon because Collette has never seen it, but has wanted to and we have 17 episodes saved on DVR. I drink three glasses of wine and am asleep on the couch by 5:00 p.m.
Sam is happy to have her room back. That means she has her TV back. We checked for volume controls, but the set is too old, so that means that Sam would turn the volume way up, I'd get up and turn it down. Sam would get up and turn it way up, I would get up and turn it down. Sam would get up and turn it way up, I'd grit my teeth and get up and turn it down. Sam would...the WORST OF ALL, the movie Sam has now chosen to watch at night is a family film called Buddy. Buddy is a movie that has lots of screeching chimps, birds, a gorilla and I don't know what else except that IT IS OBNOXIOUS. I repeat OBNOXIOUS. I hope the appeal, the fascination, is short-lived or that movie may just kill me or at least significantly shorten my life span. And Sam? She sleeps through it. As long as I leave the volume up.
Collette never complained. She has slept on a lot of crappy couches in her time, so Miranda's spare full-sized bed may have made up for the screeching and vibrations emanating from Sam's television, as well as having to hear me get up and down, up and down, sigh.
Anyone who spends the night in a house where resides an autistic individual, should expect just about anything. At least Collette didn't have anyone pee in her water glass. Maybe she'll come back and visit again.
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