Remind me not to do it again. There are little, jagged stones of litter scattered all over the floors of the bathroom, the living room, the bedroom and, since I prefer to go barefoot at home, imbedded in my feet.

Silly thing to worry about, Dilettante. Don't you have a bunch of hungry people showing up at your house for a party in two hours?

Why yes, in fact, I do. And that's really what's bothering me.

I'm done.

Finished. Ready to go. Even the bathroom is shiny clean and smelling of lemon and pine. All I need to do now is put my laptop away, and set out the munchies: cheeses, salumi, dips, nuts, etc. They're all ready to go, even the bowls and platters are set out, waiting. I'd do it now, but things will get dry and stale or limp or whatever horrible thing will happen to each individual food if forced to wait for horde. It will take me half an hour, max.

And if I did it now, what will I do forty-five minutes from now?

I'm trying to keep calm about this. We have around sixteen people coming. Possibly twenty or twenty-two-- some folks just don't RSVP, but I extrapolate take things into account, and I'm never off by more than three people, and I've got that covered. In any case, it's a far cry from 28 for Thanksgiving dinner in an apartment sized to hold about twelve if they're close friends.

Maybe, after years of practice, I've just gotten good at this?

Yeah. Right.

No, what's bothering me is that I haven't had my crisis yet.

And there is always a crisis.

The longer I put it off, the worse it will be when it arrives.

Oh well, it'll turn out well.

It always has.

So far...