I’m having a party at my place today.  I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to it. My brother and his girlfriend are coming down from out of town this morning, my law school roommate came up last night, and friends from all corners of the world (Northeast) are converging for what promises to be a great time.  All the Femmeinistes will be here but Emma, who is (tragically) stuck living the high life in Europe.

I have to admit, though, that not least among my reasons that I’m looking forward to it is the fact that I’m hoping to get my brain back for purposes other than party planning tomorrow morning.  I don’t know how it is, but somehow even the simplest party seems to take up virtually all of my mental energy for a good week.  Yep, I have advanced degrees from prestigious schools, but somehow my brain is not capable of throwing a party and doing pretty much anything else at the same time.  Like, say, patting my head or rubbing my stomach.  Have I gotten any productive work done this week not related to the party?  You’re kidding, right?  I keep trying to sit down and accomplish something, only to find myself thinking that I need cornmeal and that the cat’s litterbox needs to be washed out.  It makes me fear for my job if I ever end up having to plan a wedding.  “I’ll get the revised contract right over to you and you know, I bet anemones will be hard to get at that time of year.  I need to call the florist again.”  Yes, this is what happens when Type A organizers plan social events. We line the details up like toy soldiers like toy soldiers in our heads, gloat over them, and redeploy them over and over again in increasingly efficient configurations.

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