house party

"homes are for free expression, NOT for good impression".
(shamelessly scalped this right off another blog I follow.)

I am either freely expressing A) my home life is a work in progress, or B) my home life is a disaster area in a declared state of emergency.
Thinking I'm gonna get this framed above my front door. Thinking my sister should bear this as fair warning for this weekend. I have somehow decided that in the middle of living out the circus of teenage angst, considering whether to commit my mother or just issue a restraining order, resigning from my career (literally, not just emotionally and mentally) that this would be a cool time to have people over to my house for a social soiree with fun baubles for amusement. This would be the part of my personality that ranges from mild self abuse to full blown masochism rearing it's ugly head. It is apparently not enough that my home life has bled itself all ick-y like in to my professional life. You... know... the embarrassing hemorrhage that causes the kind of show stopping response to a polite but non committal "Is everything ok?" The kind that leaves everyone uncomfortable and listening to the intricacies of those weird air conditioning compressor noises and staring at their shoes. But now, I'm actually going to invite these people in to the home that is painfully half broken from owner inflicted D.I.Y. improvement. I honestly have NO FLOORING throughout the downstairs living area. To explain: In a fit of, Dear Jesus, if I have to look at one more odd unidentifiable colored stain on this carpet panic, I ripped them all up. At least all the downstairs. The upstairs remains in it's disgusting, but intact state. And have chosen due to time, money, crisis - take your pick- not to replace it with anything as of yet. Wondering how capable I am in pulling off a party a la Emily Post in a home that coordinates well with the garage slab, 'cept less so since the garage was at least graded and not swirled with carpet glue tracks and chunks of scraper resistant multicolored padding? Thank God, I don't actually associate with anyone who even knows where the nearest Lily Pulitzer is, much less how properly address and stuff a graduation announcement. (this was a fun and humility building task that took at least 7 adult educated and professional women, whose job basically consists of making sure people don't drop dead, at least 2 and half hours time and several google searches.) The upside is that now the 2 golden retriever and one ghetto dog hair tumbleweeds can blow across the plains of my living room unfettered. The other upside is if everyone takes off their shoes we can all scuff up some pretty impressive jiffy feet and then pretend we're single. and still skinny. and tan, and hot, *you fill in the rest.