Wooooo, I’m a social butterfly! (Now everyone who actually knows me gets to laugh and laugh and laugh.)
Okay; fine. Maybe I’m not a true social butterfly, but I am pretending to be one, and I haven’t had a nervous breakdown yet, so I guess it’s working. It’s true that I have somehow developed an enormous cold sore inside my upper lip (sexxxxxxxay, though invisible to anyone who isn’t inside my mouth) (you do not belong inside my mouth) which I am 99.9% certain is from the STRESS of being AROUND OTHER PEOPLE, but to non-hermit-y people this may sound ridiculous. I can assure you that it isn’t, though, because I am just that delicate of a delicate flower and this is the sort of thing that happens to my delicate self in response to normal life events. It is SUPER FUN being me.
It started last week with a girls’ night out dinner, which was long overdue and great fun. We talked and laughed and ate lots of delicious food and had a blast. That’s not stressful, right? Except then a few days later we had a houseful of people.
This houseful of people wasn’t stressful, either, except in the way that people are stressful to me because I’m a freak. I love people! But I also love just being a hermit. So there were a lot of people here and it was tons of fun, except afterward I needed to sleep for 12 hours to feel human again. That’s totally normal, right? Don’t answer that.
[Sidebar: Party food math is complicated, particularly here in the south. Otto did the whole, “I’d like to have some colleagues over and we can just get some beer and order some pizzas” thing, and I said fine, and then we went to the store and bought three bags of potato chips, some veggies, a case of beer, and a 6-pack of hard cider. We had a modest gathering of folks which included one adorable baby whom I managed to kidnap briefly (we took a stroll around outside and he kept resting his fuzzy little head on my shoulder, starting to doze off, then whipping his head up and peering at me like, “WAIT! I have no idea who you are! This is WEIRD!”) but was not allowed to keep. A good time was had by all (I think) BUT at the end of the evening when everyone had cleared out, we had TWO cases of beer, a couple of bottles of wine, 5-of-the-6 ciders (apparently I was the only non-beer drinker), most of a vegetable tray PLUS the veggies we bought, an entire leftover pizza, ingredients for ice cream sundaes, and at least four bags of chips. I do not understand. I think every person through the door brought enough food and drink for four other people, and then everyone ate and drank rather modestly, and now we have to have another party to use up the leftovers but what if at THAT party people bring even MORE stuff?? Conclusion: Math is hard.]
The day after our little gathering here, we went to a party at someone else’s house, and Otto was all, “Two parties in one weekend! You are a WILD WOMAN! Are you okay?” And of course I laughed and told him to shut up, but I really did want a nap (or six). We did bring a bunch of food to that party (math is hard!) as well, and when it was time to go, I was all, “JUST LEAVE IT HERE. QUICK, LET’S LEAVE BEFORE SOMEONE HANDS US MORE FOOD.”
I also decided to start wearing my contacts again this weekend, to sort of prep my eyeballs for contacts-wearing later this week, because in my everyday who-cares-I-hide-at-home-mostly life I just wear my glasses. And the thing about me and contacts is that there is a very fine line—and corresponding tiny window of time—between “I can hardly feel them! This is fantastic!” and “GET THEM OFF MY EYEBALLS! SHARDS OF GLASS!” So that may have had something to do with our hasty retreat from that second party, too, because I was doing fine and then BOOM I really needed to go home and take my contacts out and rub my eyes for a while. (Rereading this, I do not understand why I ever wear contacts. Vanity is stronger than discomfort, I suppose. Beauty is pain!)
This week I somehow have things to do and places to go every since day until I leave for BlogHer on Thursday, at which point I’ll have three days of Being With People and Wearing Appropriate Clothing and whatever back to back, after which I shall doubtless come home and collapse into bed with a severe case of malaise. Because people! They tire me out.
In related news, it turns out that eating lots of potato chips “to use them up” doesn’t actually impart a lot of additional energy to a person. Weird, right?