My youngest daughter Peachie was selected to play in a regional field hockey all-star game on Sunday. And naturally Beanie, her older sister, wanted to come home to see it. So I went on-line and sent her a train ticket. Then her college best friend wanted to come too. One more train ticket. They came home Friday night. Then Saturday a couple of their friends called to say they were lonely and could they come too? Another call to Amtrak.
We live in a small, one bathroom house. By Saturday afternoon the entre living room was littered with laptops and books, the bathroom was a web of hair dryers and curling irons all hanging from light fixtures and towel bars, Beanie’s bedroom was an explosion of duffle bags and clothing and everywhere there was a phone/ipod/computer charging.
They spent a good deal of time on Saturday doing their school work. One was writing a paper on comparative genocide in the 20th century, one was doing a business and marketing plan for a local business, and Beanie was writing a paper on some pharmaceutical study about kids on the autism spectrum. And they did this all with the TV on, IPods in their ears, and answering texts on their phones. I was impressed.
Saturday evening Martha made a huge roast beef/yorkshire pudding/mashed potatoes/beans/apple pie dinner. They were like raptors. Every dish finished down to the last smidgeon of gravy. Not a single leftover for me to have later. *sigh*
And the conversation . . . the conversation centered around who got trashed last weekend, how many Oreos they could eat during one episode of Grey’s Anatomy, reminding each other to take their birth control, the lack of hot guys on campus, who was sleeping with who, and just how disgusting is the smell of Spaghettios? Were these the same scholarly girls I had just seen doing their school work?
Saturday night they were all up late, chatting away. I had gone to bed when Martha came in and asked if I wanted to fool around. But the girls were only 4 inches away on the other side of the wall. “Listen to them” Martha said, “they’ll never hear us. I’m going to tie a sock on the door”. “What? Are you crazy?” “No, she laughed, that way they’ll know not to disturb us.” And she did it. Later that night I heard one of them get up, obvious see the sock, and start to laugh. Could I be any more embarrassed?
On Sunday morning we needed to be out of the house by 10 am to get to the game. I went to get bagels and then came home to shower. But every time I tried, someone was in the bathroom. The door was never closed, but I felt odd sharing the bathroom with someone who was not family or pretty close to it. Finally I gave up and just got in the shower while someone was straightening her hair and someone else doing their makeup. No one seemed to notice.
They were all very sweet at the game. Cheered for Peachie loudly and appropriately and then we went out to eat (because there was literally no food left in the house) afterward to celebrate. And finally, Martha piled them all into her car and drove them back to school. Ahhhh. Sweet, sweet silence.
Dorm life. It is kind of fun to revisit. But I wouldn’t want to live there.