leftovers (m)

I hosted a gathering of alumni interviewers from my college.  About 20 people showed up and the start time was 7 p.m.  Many came directly from work so I promised "refreshments".  Here's what I served: "pinwheel" sandwiches (half turkey, half roast beef--basically a micro roll-up); cheese and crackers; fresh fruit;  mozzarella and tomato skewers; and crudite.  I figured it was substantial enough and healthy (except for the cheese).

I spruced up the house and even bought matching napkins and plates (it killed me to spend money on this stuff when I have clear plastic plates and plenty of white napkins but my friend Mary is trying to reform my blue-collar ways).

The house looked even better when I watered the few plants I have and put out the fancy liquid soap bottles.

As the guests arrived, I greeted them at the front door and was a tad embarassed/horrified to realize I had forgotten to take down the woodpecker traps.  There, hanging from the front of the house, were several cut-up nylon stockings filled with mothballs and hot pepper flakes (my Cousin Patty's method....it's working).  It looked like some demented Halloween decoration.

People were too polite to ask and I didn't volunteer an explanation.

The meeting went well, but I had a ton of leftovers.  I circled the counter on my kitchen island a few times like a vulture spotting some roadkill.  Maybe a piece of cheese....or two?  How about some dip with the veggies?  The sandwiches were calling me.  I could have sworn I heard them speak.

This was a test of will and a moment of reckoning.  I realized that while I am not strong enough (yet) to have only one or two things, I am strong enough to wrap all of it up and give it away.

Which is exactly what I did. 

My neighbors were very grateful.