We've had house guests for the last five days. Five days. Not family or close friends, but folks who essentially wanted to come to CO for spring break (they used to live here) and not pay for a hotel. Our sons were friends in school and I guess we've got big hearts or something. Never-ye-the-less, five days is too long for eight people to be together in an 1100 sq foot home that also includes a beagle.
We broke out Scattergories last night in order to avoid killing our house guests with a hatchet. I chose not to play; instead, I walked the beagle and vented. The beagle kept stopping and looking back at me like, "Yes, John. I know. Thank you for walking me." When we returned, the game was coming to a close and the kids asked me to sit in and "judge." The category was "foods on a menu" and the letter was "B" and one of the kids answered "butter." Immediately, there came a cry of "no, no, thumbs down" from our guests. I sat in absolute shock. As I looked in the eyes of my family, I could see fear and trembling. I'm quite sure my girlfriend was giving me mental telepathy messages like "it's been like this ever since the game started; please save us!" or "is your hatchet sharp?" I said, "Wow. You guys are stringent." The guests chuckled, apparently not knowing the definition of "stringent."
The next prompt was "state capitals" and one of the kids answered "Bismark." Our guests screamed, "Boo, thumbs down! Bismark's not a capital. Nope, there's only one - Boise. That's the only one that starts with 'B'." The Bismark-kid, my son, just happened to take a "state capitals" test a few weeks ago and aced the bugger. The spirit of Popeye rose in me (all I can stands and I can't stands no mo') and I grabbed the laptop, instead of the hatchet, and said, "I think he's right, but let's ask Google-god." For the record, Bismark is the capital of North Dakota. I said, "O.k. We all need to know that Will was correct with his answer of 'Bismark'." The next kid answered "Boston" to the same "thumbs down" cries. I checked. Boston is the capital of Mass.
I know I'm tired. I haven't slept in my own bed in five days. Five days. I haven't been able to sit around in my underwear and listen to Mariah Carey and stick Cheetos in my belly-button and such, like I usually do. I'm out of sorts and my tolerance level is quite low. But we played a game last night with folks who are always right, always, even after Google tells us otherwise. That, my friends, ain't no fun.
If you'd like to come visit us, please know that in our kingdom, "butter" is a menu item. Always has been. Always will be. Not margarine, but the real stuff. We put it on most everything we eat. It's like a sacrament or something. And if the category is "state capitals" and the letter is "B" and you happen to say "Bartholomew," we'll probably let it count. We're not stringent on much except the sharpness of our hatchets.