I am nesting, and it feels awfully good.

There is something in the ritual preparation for guests that is not unlike ritual preparation for war. (Except that you tend to like the outcome a lot more.) There's comfort in going over the list of things in your head, walking from room to room and checking things off as done.(Are there fresh sheets on the bed? Is the floor in the guest bedroom picked up, or have I left my books scattered all over that room again? Are there hangers in the closet and ample room on the closet floor for shoes? Did I remember to leave a water glass by the bathroom sink? Some magazines to read on the nightstand? Are there enough fresh towels in the bathroom, and did I remember to check to see if there's a spare roll of toilet paper?)

It's minutiae. I know this, and I take comfort in it. I have always been one to concentrate overly much on details and occasionally forget the larger picture—in this case, that in a couple of days I'll have some good friends here.

I know that this ritual of preparedness is my way of armoring myself against things that might go wrong. It keeps me from becoming overly nervous—and, once the guests have arrived, usually helps me relax. So much easier to sit back and enjoy my time with my friends when I don't have to fret about when I'll fit in time to mop the kitchen floor or to sneak in a load of laundry while they're sleeping. That, and I think it's worth running around for a few days to know that my friends, while they're here, are truly relaxing.

Speaking of relaxing—ended up chatting with Brad for a while today. (It was evidently a slow day at work for both of us.) It's nice to find another person who found Christopher Buckley's Thank You For Smoking so deliciously funny that they almost wet themselves while reading it. (Hey, it was YOUR phrase, Brad, don't complain!) He's trying to find some of the Iain Banks novels that I'm having trouble finding stateside. And he's bringing some Buckley books I've not read, and some smoked salmon—and the best thing of all—his company.

The best moments of a visit are always the unscripted, unplanned ones—sprawling out, talking, thinking, connecting. There aren't too many people in my life that I'll truly let down my guard for, and most of them I don't have the good fortune to live near. So when they come to see me, it's an event.

I've got the disco blaring. It's a weakness of mine. I like club music, I like rave music, and dammit, I think disco's funny. Sure, it's cheese, but it's a harmless amusement. Some people like Britney Spears. I just happen to know most of the words to "Jive Talking." So there. :P

In more randomness, the plans for the party are starting to fall together. Looks like we'll have about twelve plastered geeks sleeping here. Haven't yet figured out how I'll feed that many. Bah, I'll improvise. Good thing I only do this once or twice a year—any more and I think I'd lose my mind.

Y'know, I'm yawning. I think that means it's time to close this off, post it, and curl up in bed.