Today, Chris's birthday, and the apartment was a hive of activity. No, it wasn't. It was like a small apartment with ten people in it, balancing drinks, helping with the cooking, eating, cleaning up, tripping over kids, wrapping presents, giving and getting presents and trying to invent excuses why just one more piece of ice cream cake would be of benefit to all. "And would it come with coffee?"
It wasn't chaos, it was just a family being a family, and it was lovely.
That all ended two hours ago, the first dishwasher load is done, all the bits and pieces are back in their places, and Dave has gone to sleep with the TV on. I don't know why I find that so endearing, but I do.
I am over the anxiety that always comes over me when I have to cook for other people; I've mildly praised myself for having made roast beef, gravy, yorkshire pudding, some green and orange vegetables and been left only with potatoes; and I've moved on from wine to blood orange frizzante which is as delicious as it sounds, and am hoping to stay awake long enough to watch the episode of Castle that I recorded the other night.
Life is good.