What’s on my mind? Gave a dinner party in the garden, last night. Weather? Perfect. Food? Perfect. Company? Perfect.
Moving in synch, Himself and I were the perfect hosts. PERFECT.
Some small or large detail usually goes wrong at my dinner parties: “Ooops! Left the buns in the freezer!” or “Ooops! Forgot the cutlery!” That sort of thing. Not this time. Last night, everything was perfect. Almost.
(Never mind my past dinner party disasters - the worst of which was the Baked Alaska that - hard as it is to imagine or believe - EXPLODED INTO FLAMES, upon which I SCREAMED so loudly that everyone RAN from the dining room INTO THE KITCHEN as the Baked Alaska HURTLED TO THE GROUND like a RED-HOT METEOR on a COLLISION COURSE with their feet. Oh, well. Having gone through all the effort of making such a fancy dessert, I slopped it onto their plates DIRECTLY FROM THE FLOOR. True story.)
Relaxing in the garden, we spoke of many things. It wasn’t long before the conversation between two female guests turned to laundry (“Laundry???” I thought). One said: “It would be nice to hang the laundry out in this weather, but our neighborhood’s bylaws don’t allow it.”
Another said: “Fred built me a laundry line high enough for our king-sized sheets to blow in the breeze! You can do anything you like with your laundry when you live in a rural area.”
Laundry not being the highlight of my life, I pretended to be fascinated by their conversation while actually zoning out. I gazed over our familiar garden - trees, bushes, flowers, planters, lawn swing, brassiere draped over a chair, side tables … brassiere draped over a chair???
Bursting from the table, I sprinted into the garden to grab and hide the freshly washed bra drying in the sun.
The woman who’d initiated the laundry conversation was sitting at the table with her back to the garden. Ever so casually, she asked: “Was that your black bra? Don’t worry … I didn’t see it.”
© Nicole Parton, 2019
