Nerves. (4)

Tonight is going to be a potentially embarrassing, hectic, and late night, therefore I cram this post in on my not so lunch break, lunch break.

Leave work at 5.

Go home and vegetate on the couch, tv, cell phone and computer free to detach. Maybe meditate a little if I can clear my head fast enough.

Leave at 5:45 to pick up the boy.

Drive to the quatre cinq zero formerly known as the South Shore, and pray the whole way across the Champlain Bridge that it sustains itself long enough till we make it across.

Arrive chez les parentals and prepare for embarrassment…

He’s meeting my parents for the first time. Not only the parents, but my Mom’s best friend and her husband who have known me long enough to say they have seen me bathe in their kitchen sink.  God, I pray they don’t talk about me bathing in the sink…Or, while we’re praying, that they don’t come prepared with the photos of said bathing…

Those two definitely have enough dirt on me to turn this night into a reminiscing landslide of trips down memory lane. Not to mention the stash of DVD’s of my youth neatly hidden in my Mother’s closet that they love to bust out upon the arrival of any new guests. And yes, I was a cute kid, but the 15 minute video of me crossing that 5 foot rope bridge, timidly, quietly, and oh-so precisely, is a little uncomfortable.  I’m not even sure what’s worse... That my mother filmed the entire 15 minute process, or that it took me that long to get across, thinking that with each movement, I would fall through and plummet one whole foot to my death. (Maybe it’s time to admit to my fear of bridges that I’ve subconsciously tolerated and suppressed for so long.)

If I’m newly single tomorrow, at least I'll know why.