Things I found in my house on Sunday morning

For any of you who have come over on a Saturday night, you are aware of my aversion to cleaning up.  Once the food is served, I really hate the idea of continuing to play hostess; I want to enjoy your company and have a good time. Unfortunately, since the rest of you are total slackers who wouldn't clean up even your OWN kitchens,  stepping out of my bedroom the next morning often calls to mind exiting the bunker, post-apocalypse.  That is to say, it's scary and full of unfortunate surprises. 

• Beer bottles are probably the most obvious and seemingly least interesting items to be found. However, their mere presence in my home is not nearly as fascinating as their locations. Who is finishing a beer in the bathroom?  When did a framed photograph of my in-laws make the transition from vertical to horizontal and become acceptable for use as a coaster?  I suppose I should be happy that you even thought to protect the furniture in the first place, but at what cost?

• An Unidentified Random Hat generally shows up somewhere on the living room floor or maybe on the kitchen table.  We never know to whom it belongs, nor does anyone claim it.  The real question is not "Who left this here?" but "Why do we have to many friends who find it socially acceptable to wear knit beanies and Tam O' Shanters in public?" Seriously people, it's summer in Florida.  Lay off the hats. 

• Shot glasses with half a shot in them can be completely blamed on me.  Here's what happens:  Yay! Alcohol makes things more fun!  Wait--don't want to drink too much, take it easy there, no sloppy drunk girl today.......Rock Band!!!  More Rock Band!!! Uh-oh starting to lose the buzz....another shot of tequila should fix that....wait a whole shot is too much.....eh screw it.  The next morning, a half-empty shot glass is a reminder of my unfortunate lack of accuracy in estimating my blood alcohol content coupled with extreme paranoia that I will get drunk and throw up on things. 

• Clothes that smell really, really, really bad are the fun surprises that often haunt the next few days as I make my way through my chores.  Did you play drums so vigorously that the sweat soaked through your Levis and was threatening to rust out your double-bass pedal?  No problem!  Change into your back up pair, but not without casting the offending jeans with all your might in some random direction, preferably into the be-darkened corner of a rarely used spare bedroom. 

It may sound as if I am complaining.  Not so!  I love these Sunday mornings, and I love all of you.  I also love pretending to be asleep to that Joel cleans up at least half of the house before I have to deal with it.  See you Saturday night!  Bring beer.