want to come over for dinner?

imagine the scene if you will. . .

you're making dinner for friends who are coming over. there will be at least 10 extra people sitting around on your couches and folding chairs tonight. you're scrambling to get every little thing ready before the first guest arrives. the potatoes are roasting. the burgers and dogs are ready to be tossed on the grill that's heating outside the kitchen door. drinks are in the cooler and the macaroni and cheese is finished.

you've got the washing machine and dryer in the corner of the kitchen covered with a cute table cloth where you'll line up all the food, buffet style since you have almost zero counter space.

you've got almost everything finished so it's time to start the salad. you pull all the fresh fixings out of the fridge and start getting things washed and chopped. you wash off the lettuce and plop all of it into a lingerie bag and toss it into the washing machine over in the corner and turn on the spin cycle to get all the excess water spun off so it'll be clean and crispy.

the doorbell rings. you answer the door and let in two of your closest girl friends. you run back into the kitchen and invite them to follow you while you finish up the salad. you open the washer and pull out the bag of clean, dry lettuce and then recover the machine with the table cloth. you proceed to the counter to chop up the lettuce and get everything tossed together when you notice a strange thing. it's silent in the room.

the two ladies you invited in aren't known for being quiet. ever. why aren't they talking? you look over at them and they're both staring at you with a look of mutual horror on their faces. you don't understand what's wrong. you look around trying to figure out what they see that you're clearly missing. you find nothing amiss.

you ask "what?" they start sputtering and pointing to the lingerie bag you're holding in your hand. one points to the washing machine and says, " you just.... you took that... that bag out of the washing machine." the other one jumps in. "there was... LETTUCE in it?"

you still don't see the problem. of course there was lettuce in the bag. and of course it was in the washing machine. you consider yourself fortunate to have a washing machine so handily positioned whenever you're spinning your lettuce dry in the clean lingerie bag that was purchased specifically for that purpose. doesn't everyone do that? how else to get it perfectly dried without having to wipe off each piece top and bottom?

every other guest that arrived was greeted with news of the salad in the washer. and the story got bigger and more elaborately outrageous as the night went on. i became the hostess of questionable standards. the one who couldn't be trusted to make responsible choices in what she fed to herself or her friends.

and oddly enough, there was a lot of salad left over after everyone went home.

what about you? do you vote for it being a great idea or are you reading this with the look of horror on your face to match my loud mouthed friends? it's okay whichever way you vote. i'll still like you. i might even invite you over for dinner. and salad.