I could think that maybe I dreamed one of you, but not all of you; the carnage of my kitchen proves that you were here, really here, and that this house bore witness to a party the likes of which I haven't seen in many years. You were here, and I remember sitting in my favorite spot in the the reading room, far-cornered on the thirdhand couch with a drink in my hand, looking from one face to another and smiling to myself as I clutched my drink. "You said you wanted a birthday party!" was exclaimed to me over and over, as Yet Another Geek came here with proffered alcohol and food.

I tiptoed out early on a Saturday morning to buy ingredients for salsa, leaving my spouse, still sleeping, to be guarded by the house cats. I bought a shower gift and salsa ingredients, and was well on my way through processing the vegetables into finished salsa by the time Jeff woke up.

It had to get done, not because it was a chore but because I had promised, and it was my own fault that I'd stayed up late with friends the night before, talking and playing games instead of shouldering responsibility and purchasing habañeros and peppers for food-making.