Too. Many. Parties.

I got home tonight from a benefit--which I suppose qualifies as a party--and discovered that I'd been invited to another party.

This one is on December 26th. This means December 26th can now join December 3rd, 10th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 20th, 21st, 29th, and 31st in offering me yet another chance to pay big bucks to a babysitter so I can go out and get hammered.

Honestly. What ever happened to getting hammered at home while my children bicker in the next room? (That's my version of family values. It's not exactly the Waltons, but at least it's cheap.)

And where the hell are all these hospitable people when it's late February in Chicago, and everyone's bored suicidal with take-out food, Netflix, and their spouses? That's when I'd give at least one kidney, maybe two, for the chance to get dressed up in something sparkly and trade witticisms with someone who has 1) never seen me without my makeup on and 2) doesn't strew dirty socks all over my house.

I'm just asking.

--P.