They didn't show. Again.

I know some of my friends are flakes, socially. They are disorganized; they promise to do things they end up not doing. They fight amongst themselves, the couples do, and it's a wonder they ever get the family out of the house and down the road for anything. I love them, but it drives me crazy.

Invited them over for lunch this time. Yeah, yeah, they said, noon Sunday sounds good. We'll tell B and M that we have plans with you.

Uh huh.

A voicemail at 11:50: It's Girlfriend; I am running a little late, and I wanted to tell you it would be just me, not the Hubby or Boychild. See you in a few minutes.

Call at 12:05: The scooter won't start. Hubby left it on last time he used it. (No explanation why one of their two cars was unavailable.) I'm gonna try it in an hour and see if it starts. Sorry.

- - - - - - -

Hmm. They wonder why we never see each other. My home is open, I'm here a lot (though that will change when school starts), and they know they are welcome anytime. I'm just not the priority when something more fun comes up. I know, I'm projecting; I don't really know if they wound up doing something else, but come on. They had plans with someone else they were going to cancel, and then they don't show? Suspicious, though I love them dearly.

I'm not the queen of etiquette, believe me. But what's going on in the world, and more specifically on my little piece of the Rock, that people can't make a leisurely lunch on a Sunday?

Their loss. They're missing homemade clam chowder, fresh Toll House cookies, and gin lemonade.

Sucks to be them.