New and Exciting

Indeed, that is the name of the game today: "New and Exciting."

Because Boyfriend of Amazingness and I have embarked upon a New and Exciting Journey, wherein we welcomed a New and Exciting Houseguest to join our family.

No, we are not procreating...

No, we've not randomly welcomed a vagabond into our home and decided to keep him as a permanent fixture, between the lamp and the bookcase in the library...

No. Instead, we've welcomed a four-legged youngster to our home, and he's decided that it might be okay to stay.

After a whirlwind adoption process,**1 Friday marked the day that 44 pounds of fur, drool and snuggles took up residence on our living room couch.

And on the kitchen floor.

And on the bed.

And just about everywhere else in the house. (Well... everywhere except the craft room. Craft rooms are full of things that Young Masters would find shiny and delicious, and there's no need for yakked-up piles of crayon to become my new decorating scheme.)

So, over the past few days, everything has been an adventure.

No, seriously...

Everything.

You're going to go pee? Let me come watch. I'll rest my head on your leg, and make sure you're okay in this weird little room on your weird little throne.

You're going to pour yourself a glass of lemonade? Let me stick my head in the refrigerator and make sure there's nothing out-of-the-ordinary. For good measure, I'll lick the bottle. Yeah... I think you'll be okay if you drink this.

You're going to sit on the couch? Why, I think that sounds fabulous. Let me just... oops, that was your face I just hit with my tail, and your squishy middle bit feels funny under my feet. So sorry, just trying to get to the optimized seating area between you and The Important One.**2 Won't take me but a moment more... here's a kiss for your troubles.

What will tomorrow bring?

Only he knows.

**1 When I say whirlwind, I mean that this makes Dorothy's tornado seem tame. We sent in an application and a lighthearted request for additional information on Tuesday, thinking that (at best) we might be able to schedule a short meet-and-greet over the weekend, if he hadn't alreay gone to a Forever Home. By noon Wednesday, the shelter called to inform us that we were approved and they wanted to know when we'd be retrieving the young master to bring him home. After a short session of flailing our arms and saying "But we haven't even met him yet!", we decided that Boyfriend of Amazingness would check out the situation on Friday morning, at his earliest convenience, and see if it might work out. By the time I arrived home from work on Friday afternoon, we were Proud Puppy Parents. Now that, my ReaderFriends, is a whirlwind.

**2 How I imagine the Young Master refers to Boyfriend of Amazingness. I am The Tolerable One. He is The Important One. It's a Man-And-Beast bonding thing. My lack of dangling bits in the middle means that I simply wouldn't understand.

Sociability

A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

To Individuals Who Are Prone To Social Unhelpfulness

Proximity is nine tenths of the law.

(Or something like that.)

I mean, when you're a child, the closest kid to the empty candy dish is the kid likely to receive the blame.

Likewise, the adult who's standing closest to a guest ought to practice a modicum of hospitality instead of walking straight past them, ignoring them completely in favor of secreting ones self away in a cubby hole and calling someone else to take care of them.

Sure, there are (on rare occasions) exceptions to the rule.

For instance, when the Jehovah's Witnesses knock on my door at 10:00 on a Saturday morning, I run like hell to hide my naked self**1 in the back corner of the kitchen while Boyfriend of Amazingness is left to spin a tale of how I left him heartbroken and alone to go join a gypsy circus.

But we know these Witness folks. And despite our best efforts of ignorance (and our pleas for them to practice the same), they continue to descend upon our domicile.

However, when one doesn't anticipate or know who the guests are, one must at least make an effort.

Now, I recognize that the world is filled to brimming with individuals who have a little trouble with interaction. And while, for the most part, I support the avoidance of discomfort-inducing activities, there are times when discomfort is secondary to the necessity of communication.**2

Thusly, for those non-social types (and anyone wishing to brush up on their basic skills of interaction), I hope to present this helpful hint:

Sunny Smiles' Guide to Practicing Hospitality

Instead of this...

"There's someone waiting for help at ______. [Regular Greeter] isn't here yet and someone needs to come find out what they want."

... I instead offer this option:

"[Visitors] from [company] are here. I wanted to let you know, since [regular greeter] isn't here yet and you're a wonderfully helpful person who I think can take care of this situation. I had them take a seat in the waiting area, but it would be a help if you could come get them to their final destination."

If someone is standing there, Reader Friend, talk to them. I promise, society as a whole isn't quite so scary as you think. And they're even less scary if you (brace yourself for this...) help them. Then they aren't quite so inclined to stare pointedly at you - or worse, attempt to communicate with you*3... - as you walk by pretending that they don't exist.

It's crazy, but it works.

And maybe, someday, someone will help you without being asked. It's like a big helpful circle.

But it's gotta start somewhere.

Why not with you?

RaYD,

Sunny

**1  Yes, that's right. I'm an actively practicing member of the Naked Saturday club.

**2 Sometimes I gotta kill me a spider. Sometimes you gotta talk to someone you don't know. If it helps, you can hold your shoe in your hand while you do it. It works for me.

**2 ADDENDUM: Do not hit the guest with your shoe. That's the opposite of helpful.

**3 The horror...

You're Not The Boss Of Me, Now...

ReaderFriends, I have something shocking to tell you.

Every once in a while I get a bee in my bonnet, and bristle up pretty easily.**1

Sometimes it's because my hair doesn't work quite right. It's being limp, or crunchy, or too exciting, and living underneath it is more than I can handle. So everything else that day goes wrong, based solely on my folicular conundrum.

Sometimes it's because I was having a fantastic morning at home, getting lots of stuff done (or maybe getting nothing at all done...) and didn't want to leave home and come in to the office. So I pitch a hissy fit, and stomp my feet and knit my brow and fuss about in a general direction.

And sometimes it's just because people suck.

Today, I'm picking Door Number Three.

Which means I've spent an inordinate amount of time imagining how much simpler adult life would be if there were still On Duty Individuals around to put the stoopidheads in timeout. There wouldn't be an empty corner to be found.

**1 You're astounded. I can tell.