I may have mentioned this before but my apartment is tiny. We have a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen, and basically that's it. Please don't tell me that there are people who have rooms in their house that exist solely for the purpose of containing a washing machine and dryer, because frankly I don't think I could take it. First I'd faint with jealousy---the space! imagine the space! And wait, you can wash your clothes without collecting five bucks first in quarters?----and then when I'd been revived again with smelling salts, I'd hunt them down, look up their address, and bring all my laundry over as soon as it's light. Wait, what's that you say? You have a laundry room? You, my friend, are living the dream. Never forget it. (Also, I'll be over tomorrow, okay? Don't worry, I have my own fabric softener.)
All this is to say that my teeny litle doll-sized apartment received, last night, a whopping FIFTEEN visitors, which I am pretty sure is the largest amount of people it has ever held at one time. Part of me was afraid that we were going to have to do shifts---you! stand out there in the hall with your glass of wine for fifteen minutes, then we'll rotate!---and most of me thought it was going to be like one of those "how many people can you fit in a Mini?" competitions (special prize for the person who contorts their body into the most 90 degree angles!), but it turns out it was actually fine, if just a wee bit tight. Thank goodness no-one wore their hoop skirt that night.
But wait, let's back up a minute here so I can ask you something: when you know people are coming over, how do you prepare? You probably do a little light mopping, right, hide the stack of bills that always accumulates on the kitchen table, give the toilet a quick going-over with some bleach? Well, yeah, I do that too. But a lot of the time, the inner perfectionist in me rears her perfectly-coiffed head, fixes me with a steely glare, and says "hey, you know what we should really do? We should really paint the hallway before people come over. Yeah, that's totally what we'll do. Get to it!"
This, my friends, is why I spent Sunday afternoon painting my hallway. And Tuesday evening buying a new rug for the kitchen. My internal monologue, I guess, goes a little like this: oh, you're coming over? Awesome! Let me give my house an Extreme Makeover before you get here! If you say 'hey, is that new?' then I WIN. I WIN AT HOSTING PARTIES.
Maybe we should pause here for a brief before and after. Here is a before (it's from August 2007, which makes it very before):
And here is an after. Hurrah for after!
Also, here is our new kitchen rug, just for kicks. I made it from Flor tiles. How much fun are Flor tiles, by the way? They're like an indecisive person's dream! Grey! No, white! No, grey again! Screw it, if I don't like it, I'll just buy a new tile next week for eight bucks and sub it in!
I thought I would give you a bonus cat in a sweater right there. Is there anything cuter than a cat in a sweater? I don't think so.
Oh wait, actually there is something cuter than a cat in a sweater: EIGHT DAY OLD BABY.
That's sweet little Dottie, whose mother, Helen Jane, looks almost CRIMINALLY good for having had a baby last week. I almost want to hate her, but how can you hate a person who arrives at your doorstep bearing a crate of wine? You can't, that's how. Simple as that.
So the reason I had fifteen people in my tiny house on Wednesday was because they all came over to play the Wii. And let me tell you, you would be surprised at the degree to which you can rock out at Guitar Hero, even in a tiny house like this.
Sean is all uh, careful there, Maggie, I think you may be approaching dangerous levels of rocking out.
There was also a lot of INTENSE FOCUSING going on.....
....tempered with some jubilant high-fiving.....
.....some drinking (well I mean, duh).......
........and the world's best outfits:
I seriously considered holding Mai hostage for this shirt. I would have been all "You cannot leave my house until you give it to me. GIVE IT TO ME. Don't make me make you climb out of the window. It's a long way down. Just leave the shirt here and no-one gets hurt. I'll return it next week. Washed and folded. As soon as I find someone on the Internet who'll let me borrow their laundry room."
(I took a few more pictures here. They are mostly of people playing the Wii. It's kind of hilarious to see the sorts of faces you make when you're playing the Wii. If by "kind of hilarious" you really mean "wow, I'm never making that face again.")