DP and I cook and clean our little hearts out and throw these parties. Sometimes I do not enjoy them. Conversation is awkward or centered on topics I have nothing to say about. Sometimes I’m in the kitchen doing dishes, hoping someone else will wander in to talk to me. (Often this happens.)
Over the past five years, three of my major friendships have busted apart, all for widely different reasons. As someone who prides herself on the strengths of her friendships, I have taken this hard. For this and less dramatic reasons involving new partners, children, and geography, the peoplescape of my parties has changed. The group who showed up at New Years’ Eve was disparate, but it worked. The conversation was interesting, no one seemed drunk; I hid the interesting beer I smuggled back from Christmas travels [it’s only a few states away, but the beer selection is quite different], but I didn’t even need to.
Yesterday I kept my eyes open with great effort, finished a book, edited ten pages of The Fucker, and made a few resolutions in spite of myself. I went to bed at a scandalously early hour and slept for 12 hours. Thank god.
Today I’m back at the
dining room table desk editing an interesting paper. Later today I will walk my dog and dive back into the Fucker, for at least a few pages. I am a little overwhelmed by the number of (piddling yet important) things I pushed off until the new year, but I am here.
Where are you?