Getting invited to parties is an inherently stressful occurrence in my life. I know that I’ll have to decide what to wear (is this jeans-casual, slacks-casual, skirt-casual, slacks-formal, skirt-formal, or dress formal?), I’ll have to sit talk with multiple people I don’t know (I live in awe of people who can just pick a conversation out of the air and keep people talking for hours), not say the first thing that jumps to mind (because when I’m nervous, stupid things come out of my mouth), and generally expend a lot of energy looking like I do this sort of thing all the time.

Well, tonight I’ll be engaging in just such a gathering. My neighbor is celebrating her birthday by inviting all of her friends to hang out with her at a local restaurant/bar. And by “all of her friends” I mean droves of people, none of whom I’ve met or even heard of, all of whom have known each other since grade school, and all of whom are actually from this town. I can’t even conceive of what it might feel like to be so very much from a place that you still see friends from kindergarten, and frankly, this freaks me out. Think of all the in-jokes they know!

So I set myself some tasks that would increase my odds of actually going to this party rather than slipping into my PJs and making cocoa. I bought her flowers, I left my car out of the garage, I told a work friend I was going, and I got home and immediately changed into clothes that I will wear and NOT second-guess. Now, if I don’t go, I’ll have flowers to take care of (and keep the cat away from), I’ll have to move my car, I’ll have to tell my co-worker I chickened out when she asked me how it went, and I’ll have to change clothes yet again for no good reason. That all seems like work.

But just to be safe, I’ve got a plan of action for while I’m there. I’ll arrive a little late so I’m not the first person there, and I’ll “have to leave” after 45 minutes or an hour after I get there if I’m not having a good time. I think I’ll probably survive for an hour. Most likely. Maybe.

Update: Well… That was anticlimactic. They weren’t at the place I thought they’d be. So now I’m home, my car is put away, I’ve changed into PJs, and I’ve left the flowers at her door with a card. Time to make cocoa and curl up with a kitty.