You would think that working at a top secret government facility along side super powered spies would make every day stresses easier to deal with. (Mind controlling super villains and telekinetic hitmen really put cheating boyfriends and traffic jams on your commute to work into perspective.)
That being said…
There is nothing that makes me more stressed and nervous than a visit from my parents.
Not an impending mission. Not the “unidentified contaminant” alarm that goes off at work more often than I’m comfortable with. Not being party to the potentially criminal activities of an ex co-worker and best friend. Not even the prospect of having no date to my sisters wedding. (An increasingly likely scenario given my tendency towards… well, being alone for the rest of my life.)
I’ve spent the week tidying, wiping, sweeping, washing, polishing and of course hiding. Still my flat doesn’t seem right yet. I have managed to get through the mountain of laundry that appeared to have erupted from my washing basket. The dishes are all clean and my cats are being picked up by Stanley, who has agreed to watch them for me (as they would reduce my father to a wheezing pile of Scotsman.)
I don’t know why I bother really. It doesn’t matter how much I try, my Mother will still look around in disgust and then begin to clean almost immediately after coming through the door. (She even brings rubber gloves and other cleaning supplies, which demonstrates some kind of illness on her part, I think.)
That’s not to say I don’t miss them.
I just that I prefer missing them than the other thing. (The other thing being that they are in my house and I literally can’t miss them.)
Am I a horrible person?
Don’t answer that.
