A Tuesday night

Yesterday I hosted my first dinner party. I spoke to my mother about the plan a couple of days ago, asking her what I should make for dinner. (I didn’t bring any cookbooks with me.) She replied, “It’s a school night, so make it easy. Cook shoyu chicken and make sure to use star anise.”

I told my guests that this was, I believe, the first dinner party I’ve ever hosted at which the entire meal was finished before company arrived. Thank goodness for the genius of mothers!

The evening went well, despite a brief power outage. We had warm food, cold wine, and good conversation. My guests left at 10:30pm, at which point, I went directly to bed.

Unfortunately, my night was not over.

I woke up at 12:30 am, to the sound of heavy breathing. The breathing was nearby, and it wasn’t coming from me. I bolted upright in bed, turned on the lamp, and found the landlords’ dog, Bella, sleeping on the floor next to me.

Bella is an outdoor dog. I don’t think she has been bathed in a good while. I did not want her in the house.

So I got out of bed and called her to the door. She came, took one look at the door, and went straight back to her spot on the floor. I raised a ruckus: clapping, yelling, snapping my fingers, pushing her with my feet. Nothing worked. Finally, I wrestled her out of the house.

I had solved one canine problem. But I now found myself with a new one—I smelled like dog. A little before 1 am, I took a well-needed shower.

This morning, I half wondered if the whole incident was a strange dream. That is, until I saw the dirt and paw marks on my tile floor…