At least, the one who came to the house today didn’t. Stephanie Porter of The Independant dropped by with photographer Paul Daly to interview me for the paper. I know Stephanie from grade seven through twelve, those years that many of us would rather wash huge portions of right out of our memories. Stephanie was one of the smart, funny, nice people; attributes she seems to have kept since high school.
I’ve been agonising over this interview for a couple of weeks now, because it involved not only having me talk about my work (I can handle that), but also about my life and my choices. More immediately, it involved being photographed and cleaning house beforehand, both of which activities I loathe.
So John (bless his cotton-pickin’ shorts) tidied up last night while I steeled my nerves and attempted to run through things I wanted to have said, which pieces I wanted photographed and what had to be done in the morning before they got here.
Surprisingly, everything went really well. The dogs were fairly well-behaved. Katherine was pretty good and played with her clay during much of the interview. I ignored the photographer and dressed casually, having done little more than shower, brush and light makeup before they showed. The house, largely thanks to John, was fine. I vacuumed and did a little more tidying and wiping things down. I rehung a part of the icebergs triptych before they got here so that it was straight.
Besides that, Katherine and I did our normal morning thing. The interview lasted about 40 minutes from start to finish and went pretty smoothly, I think. Hopefully Stephanie thinks so, too.
It’ll be in next Sunday’s paper and I’ll try to blog on it when it appears.