Two friends of mine have already agreed to come to my Halloween party next Saturday night. So save your plane fare pennies for another party. You don't need to fly to Chicago to help me look popular.
Now all I have to do is:
1. arrange for a housecleaning service to come and disinfect the place;
2. nag That Stud Muffin I Married into making sure the bar is well stocked, and that means ice, too, mister;
3. arrange for my children's costumes, and let's hope it's not like last year because I will never attain that level of glorious crafty-mommy-ness again;
4. decorate the house;
5. order the flowers;
6. purchase the paper goods and goodie bags for the children;
7. come up with a menu; get the ingredients; cook the food;
8. carve at least one pumpkin;
9. panic and call more friends to get them to come;
10. panic more and stand on a nearby street corner holding up a big sign that says "Free Food and Drinks!"
12. panic more and hack into the Google Maps site so that no matter what you're searching for, you end up with a map to my house;
13. decide to stop panicking. Make a punchbowl of Margaritas and bob for lime wedges until I pass out.
This would all be fine if I had 10 days to do it all. I mean, that sounds do-able, right? Right?
Except I actually have about three and a half days to do it. The chorus director at my kids' school asked me to sing a solo at a school concert on Wednesday, so in addition to the usual crap I do, I have to find time to learn new music; rehearse; decide that I'm too fat to be seen in public; and decide that my children will probably disown me because I'm going to make a total asshole out of myself.
On second thought, it all sounds about as do-able as my average week. When I think about an average week of my life, what with the homework, the karate classes, the volunteer crap, the groceries and ALL THAT LAUNDRY, I feel a strong urge to lie down on the sofa and drink margaritas. And yet! I have managed to survive this long.
So that's good. Chances are I'll survive this whole Halloween party thing. And if I don't, I'll have more important things to worry about than whether I should get the Costco guacamole or make it from scratch.