9 hours and counting

'Til my soiree

PANIC

I mean, no. I am a veritable mini Martha; calm, cool, level headed and liable to stab you if you so much as shoot me a sideways glance. I have a tree (If only I'd read Ms. Squirrel's comment first). I have wine glasses, a fair amount of booze, soft drinks, tea, coffee, mixers, gatoraide, milk and eggnog. I'm providing cheese, fruit, veggies, chips dip and some luncheon meats and demanded that other people bring hot foods.

My apartment isn't ready.

The food isn't totally ready.

I'm not ready.

My house is filled with food and there is nothing to eat for breakfast.

I'm terrified that no one is going to show up and I'll be left alone like an idiot and a loser trying to explain to maybe the one person that shows up why they were expecting a party and it is just the two of us. (I hope this one person is not male because I don't want them getting any ideas.)

Although, if you too are thrust into throwing a party filled with people you don't quite know, on a budget you don't have, in an apartment the size of a postage stamp then you too should call Maya and hysterically ramble for a few minutes. It helps. She is a wedding planner so I imagine she's dealt with socially phobic nut cases on a daily basis in her lifetime.

In the midst of this though life keeps trucking forward; I found out late last night that a relative lost her pregnancy pretty far along and there is a memorial today in just a couple of hours. I'm going to leave the pictures I planned to hang grouped on the floor as is, the kitchen floor is going to be swept instead of scrubbed and other little details will slide so that I may manage to make it to the church.

Hey Guys, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and hug your loved ones. (And pray, just a little for me, that at least five people show up.)