Having people over makes me happy. It also makes me anxious. When I go to someone’s house, I don’t walk in and start checking if the baseboards are dusty or opening the closet to see if they’re organized. But nothing makes me clean random parts of my apartment and analyze all my choices like the threat of company. I worry about the dishes I have, if I have enough drink options, alcoholic and non, I make sure the mudroom has room for everyone’s shoes and coats (that’s just a brag that I have a mudroom, it’s my favorite feature) and I go over the menu to make sure everything will be ready around the same time, assuming everyone will be a few minutes late. This usually all dissipates within a few seconds of the first guest arriving (I sometimes ask close friends to come on the early side). People walk in and compliment something (a candle’s aroma, the flowers, the snacks, the pizza I ordered, the mudroom) and I exhale and have fun.
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