Monday, August 31, 2015


I really do like the planning for an event. I can even enjoy the pre-party cleaning. The event itself is always fun. But the very best part?

When it is all over.

As a self-described "high functioning introvert", I can maneuver through social situations so smoothly that people who don't know me well would never guess I'm an introvert. But boy, once I hit that "I've had enough social interaction for now" wall, sweet, solitary silence is what I need. Lots of it.

The dessert gathering with the neighbors went very well. A good time was had by all, and everyone said they would like to do it again (note that no offers to host the next one came along with those statements). The cream cheese torte was a huge hit, as it always is.

Some notes:

- Of the nine people in the room, I was one of the two people who are still working full time. Everyone else is at least partially retired. I may well have also been the youngest person in the room, which doesn't happen very often at my stage of life.

- My doorbell plays the Westminster chimes (only the first two measures of the linked audio, thank heaven), quite loudly. For the last two years, it's only worked off and on, even though I've changed the batteries and checked out the workings of the button. Well, either that, or delivery guys just prefer to knock.

You know where this is going, don't you? The darn thing worked every single time a neighbor rang it yesterday. They must just have the touch.

- Three neighbors thought to bring thank you gifts - each brought a bottle of wine. I've been down to dregs for a couple of months, with no time to wander the aisles of the liquor store, so these were most welcome.

- Stupid dining room table. It's been extended for a long time, and I wanted to shrink it to the smallest size for this event (at its smallest, you can still seat six; with all the extra boards, you can set a full jury around it). But the two halves just would not join. The pins and holes lined up, but I couldn't get it to close. Naturally, I thought of what I might have been doing wrong as I was falling asleep last night.

The table is technically an antique, as my parents bought it when they bought the house, fifty-one years or so ago. If I decide to keep it (versus get a new table to match the hutch I'd eventually like to get) it will need a major sprucing up. One of the leg braces is cracked, the chairs need new seating boards, upholstery and covers. The top of the table is in pristine condition, thanks to quality table pads, but the rest could use refinishing. It would cost me as much to have that done as to buy a new table. But it is a gorgeous, French provincial thing made by Thomasville...I'd hate to sell it to someone who wouldn't really appreciate it.

The thing that vexes me most about the table? It is a true oval. Finding the correct type of tablecloth is challenging, to say the least.

- The house is delightfully clean and uncluttered (um, remind me again where I "temporarily" stored some of that clutter?). This may finally give me the push I need to find permanent homes for some stuff.

One neighbor is interested in a murder mystery dinner, and has a friend who would enjoy it, too. Maybe in early November...I may be recovered by then.

No comments: