I am surprised by guests arriving for dinner. I thought before the bell rang, that I would make something microwave safe. But the bell rang, and I smiled my surprise. I generally hate anything not scheduled as it seems there is no preparation for the work involved. Again, another surprise with these surprise guests! They brought take-out from the pizzeria.

I wonder about increasing my cholesterol level…. Is it possible to die from too much cholesterol? I often fail to understand what it is doctors are actually telling their patients. And I hesitate to change my diet without the educated and tested opinion of my professional doctor. I do not demean. In fact, I am sure doctors know the exact answer. I just fail to understand as I can’t figure out. I still regret not being able to get into medical school, and, I still pursue the habit of reading all labels including those on medication bottles. Alas! Surprise guests and the mysterious medical profession! Both are uncontrollable!

We eagerly take the pizza to the dining room. No one uses the dining room. It is the place where things that don’t belong have a space. Vases of delicate flowers and breakable containers and fruit that need to ripen, as well as the good cutlery and the good china, and the odd pictures that are framed and bought from an expensive gallery, all things that have a space in the dining room. There are all the things needed in a room and a dining room, but we don’t do more than walk past or walk through. The ripening fruit are fragrant, and remind each of us to get the daily dose of vitamins that don’t come in candies and donuts.

With all these guests meandering around the house, holding greasy pizza and cold soft drinks from the fridge, I am scattered. A greeting here, an apology there, an encouragement to guests to help themselves to anything in the fridge or pantry, and the reminder I keep telling myself to get the pot of coffee on as soon as I have a minute. I am glad that people come over, as often enough, I am alone in a big place that leaves me quiet time and peace to search my soul much too thoroughly. I am best friends with myself. It is a comfortable arrangement, but also, it is a dangerous game of trying to make a lot of things that are important to have a lot of meaning in my life. It is a lop-sided balance of happiness. I find I hesitate to share these precious things with other people, and I delve deeper into the deeper meanings that fulfill the life of acceptance and achievement.

The night carries on. People are soon screaming and laughing and the music — a jazz party — soon adds the ambiance as someone finds the radio. I have forgotten the list in my head of things I need to do to make my guests comfortable, and I am now hopping on my toes to the rhythm of bites of conversation. Everything is happy. I am carefree. And my guests do not want to leave. Saturday night means that everyone is allowed to forget the obligations of all respectable people. We will add an extra ten dollars to the babysitter’s payment when we get home, and we will even take the extra care of cleaning up our dog’s accident. It is worth these few things as people sharing pizza, pop, and the air of a little-used dining room, is precious and golden. Time does not wait for these moments or these days.

By the time the dinner party is over and the guests leave, we are all late. Like the guests, we also have to clean up the pizza boxes and take out the recycling. We have to throw away the coffee grounds and wash the wine glasses. I am tired, and I sigh in relief. Yet another surprise come and gone, and we are all alright.