This morning’s post will be jotted quickly.  There’s a lot going on here at the house.  Yep, I’m digging around, looking for my Patriot’s pink hat, getting ready to jump on this year’s Super Bowl bandwagon.  My radio blares those two troglodyte’s, Dennis and Callahan (with their pet poodle Kirk Minihane).  It’s Patriots Monday.  Tom Brady will be on soon.

I didn’t follow the Pats all season long, I’ll admit it.  Sure, Reggie monitored every game and sent me longish notes with his thoughts and observations.  SK (aka Gwyn’s Mum) never wavered, although she admitted via text during the national anthem, “I am nervous for this game.”

So was Slim.

But it’s not the Super Bowl hysteria that’s consuming my thoughts.  It’s that I’ve got a date this morning.  A date with a drapery consultant.  And like SK and Slim, I’m nervous.

Nervous.

It’s hard to explain.  The anxiety started yesterday during brunch with my best friend forever, Samantha Van Hopper.  At an unnamed restaurant, we got stuck sitting at the bar; there was no room at the inn.  It was loud, busy, and uneven.  I spied poached eggs and cretons on the menu.  I asked about the cretons provenance because not all pork spreads are created equally.  The bartender said they were the real deal, made from a dusty old grandmère’s cookbook.

I’m sure the chef’s grandmère was a perfectly lovely person, but her understanding of cretons was less than authentic.  Please.  Don’t grill some extra lean pork with spices, crumble it over an English muffin with a giant side of Grey Poupon and call it cretons.

Mais non.

My quasi-cretons indignation subsided; when we left and went our separate ways, I was tense.  I should have just gone home and vacuumed but I took a long and circuitous route and ended up at a favorite antique shop in Brunswick.  What was I looking for?  Not sure.  This vanity would have been perfect without the pink roses.

That’s the problem with chalk paint.  Someone’s always taking it just a little bit too far, maybe having a few too many glasses of La Vie en Rose.  Maybe I’ll buy it anyway.

A glance at the clock tells me my way of long introduction hasn’t even touched on the root of my drapery date anxiety and I’ve got miles to go this morning.  Dennis and Callahan just started going over the non-sports related headlines and I can’t listen to the two troglodytes and their poodle one minute longer.

I didn’t mean to delay the telling, but it looks like the simple story of haberdashery and insecurity will have to wait until Friday.  Yes, on Friday, we’ll get right to the heart of the matter.

See you then!