We have a house full of company at the moment...a friend from North Carolina is in with her four teenagers. It's been difficult for her to come home to visit with family, because her own family is so large, but we have the house for that, and so they come and stay with us, using our house for a launching pad, as they travel to visit her family members in the area.
Yesterday, they were out visiting family and saying good bye to relatives who came in for the Fourth of July festivities and were headed back for home.
Tim and I were busy too. A friend had surgery. Roofers were coming in to put a new roof on the old house up on the hill. Everyone was in and out. We just left the doors unlocked. I forget what a shock that is to city folks, but it works out well. The refrigerator is stocked, everyone just helps themselves, and the kids have their own bedrooms on the second and third floor.
In any case, after a night of hospital visits (we discovered another friend had broken her hip, so we made two visits), we went up to load up the old shingles to take to the dump. I ended up with ants in my pants, which is not nearly as funny as it sounds. I had to strip down and shake my pants out. They'd crawled up inside my pant legs, scores of them.
We came home after dark, and Pauline and her children were not home yet, so I went around upstairs insuring that windows were open and fans were running to bring the cool night air inside, and then we went to bed. I vaguely heard them come in, but was so tired that I dozed back off right away..
I woke up to see Tim's shocked face in front of me as he stood there in his underwear. "I didn't know Pauline came home last night. Her car is not in front of the house."
I lifted my head from the pillow, half awake.
"I went upstairs to turn the fans off," he said, mortified. "I opened her door and she was in bed."
"Was she awake?"
He sighed resignedly. "Yeeeeesssssss...."
I surveyed the state of his underwear and said, "Well, did she tell you that you really need to throw those out?"