I was talking to one of my oodles of blog readers and was appalled that I'd left that blog reader with the impression that my dear little sister and equally dear little Kristin had created a nightmare for me while I was staying with them.
No. No. No. That is not correct. Kristin and Michele and Blue and Max made me feel like I was a King staying in some sort of 5 Star Hotel. I don't recollect ever being so pampered or treated so kindly.
There was not a single moment where I felt even in the slightest way uncomfortable or unwelcome. My entire time in their house I was talked to in the nicest, most respectful manner imaginable.
I'm sure I must have done at least one thing that got on someone's nerves, at least a little bit, but I heard nary a word about anything I might have done that wasn't kosher. Even though I knew I did some questionable things.
Like setting off the security alarm despite being told not to open a door.
Or burning steaks to a blackened crisp. They ate the charred remains as if they were the tastiest steaks they'd ever had, with nary a complaint. A few days later they even let me barbecue chicken using my multiple flipping method, despite it being horribly controversial and not allowed when I burned the steaks. Ironically if I'd used my multiple flipping method with the steaks, they wouldn't have been burned black.
When I forgot to water the backyard plants, killing several of them, not a word was said, the plants were simply replaced. To my embarrassed chagrin.
I could go on with more examples, but you get the drift. I absolutely totally enjoyed my stay with Kristin and Michele and Blue and Max. It was other parts of Tacoma that set my nerves on edge.
There, now the record has been set straight.