This is going to hurt tomorrow morning. But I won’t regret my work today. I only wish there was more time to keep working through everything I desperately want to complete. And if not complete, at least take the next few steps forward. On top of what I enjoy doing, there is what I should be doing, an entire library of home tasks that need attention. Truly, I am not the only one to lie awake at night and fret about what I am not accomplishing, angry that I was so tired yesterday an afternoon nap was required and it lead to me not being able to sleep at night.

But let’s not let this be a whinge, as no one really wants to read that. And though this is some what about time management, what I really want to talk about is the evolution of the house party. The shear act of inviting people to your residence will require you to indulge less in the tasks that you want to do with your time off, and require all your creative energy to plot and scheme the perfect party presentation for friends and family. In my case, I solely rely on my wife’s creative energy, and that can be an exhaustive task on its own, requiring all my mental effort outside of work.

I used to pride myself on my ability to research, discover, learn – that is until I met my wife. She is the ultimate researcher. She has Google plastered to her forebrain, able to enter the most obscure word searches known. Pinterest is her friend. And she can adopt one idea with another, blending into cohesive alignment that requires interstellar time warp calculations for any normal human being. The results are generally epiphanies of historic magnitudes, comparable to great discoveries in history: like the world is actually round.

So, what I am trying to say here, is that when she puts her mind to plotting a party, you can be sure that it will be unique. I have the benefit of watching the slow progression of her ideas come to fruition. And ever so often, I wish I was the unknowing guest that racks up to find themselves transported inside her beautiful mind. But I have been accused of giving her too much credit, so let’s move on.

When we were young, a long, long time ago, a party was very simple. You had friends. You had alcohol. You had something edible to absorb the alcohol. And if you were smart, you ate something before you drank something, otherwise the night was more than likely erased from your memory. Only just this weekend, we went to a house warming party. It is her very first apartment. And such an honor, as the “oldies” to be able to celebrate this achievement with her. It was a lovely place, and a very well thought out party with home made food, cakes, and good company. But, as the “oldies” staying long was not in the cards. We needed to get home, take our medication, eat, and go to bed.

But coming soon, us oldies will be sure to take our afternoon nap, drink plenty of coffee, keep fueled with those nasty carbohydrates, and we will be hosting our own house warming party. This will be month’s of plotting by my wife. Silent ideas flowing like the Mississippi River after seven days of torrential rain. She has mental list upon list. I do not dare ask to reveal any of her secrets just yet. The ideas are not fully formed. They need watered, nurtured, sweet talked into sprouting unmentionable excitement from our guests. It takes time to put these things together. Unbeknownst to me, I have likely spent hundreds on this festival already. The ideas are disguised as random boxes showing up from Amazon or even purchases from the local hardware store thrown innocently into the cart, just next to the three tools I needed for the truck. Even right now, I imagine she is scheming some new idea, if only using a fraction of her mental agility.

And that’s the point, really. That’s one of the many reasons I married her sixteen years ago. I couldn’t do this on my own. Not the same anyway. I will spend my days working, managing, creating, or destroying. She brings all the pieces together into a symphony, bringing out the colour of life, and weaving strong memories that we shall never forget.

So, what will I feel tomorrow. I will feel sore from doing the yard work, sanding and polishing the old truck, and generally working in the heat and humidity to make our home beautiful with many more things to complete.

My wife, well, she will bring us all the joy for living.