Home > At Play, Post A Week 2011 > Does Entertaining Count as Exercise?

Does Entertaining Count as Exercise?

Here’s the familiar anticlimactic descent into restlessness following an evening of entertaining. The recent weeks have been filled with activity–and lists. Shopping and to-do lists that lead to the final sticky note tagging–“this bowl for veggies”, “bread bowl”, “bowl for olives” (and the inevitable “get someone to take unused olives home”), and, in this heat, “buy ice”.

The night before the event is usually a late one–or early morning–depending on how I look at it. Long after Hubby retires for the night, I’m steadily engaged in a flurry of  frantic, but quiet, activity. Is everything in its place? Do I have enough [there’s always something]? Is there a contingency plan for X, Y or Z? There usually is; that’s why I’m up at 3 am on the night before.

Starting early on The Day enough allows wiggle room, a balm for my anxious nerves. Adrenaline versus the butterflies one experiences when face with public speaking (usually number one in top ten lists of common fears) or an appointment with the dentist when I know I’ve been “bad”.

Lights, camera, action! Guests begin to arrive and I’m on. Now the fun begins. All of the prep work, planning and anticipation is now worth the effort. This is fun. This is exciting. Hey, this is really taking over my kitchen. Hopefully, the dishwasher will be able to cut through these baked-on challenges like butter.

After the last guest has waved good bye, after the dishwasher has whirred into life, and I collapse in my favorite comfy chair, it hits. The anticlimactic buzz–I’m still on. Jazzed up at bedtime like a 5-year old on a sugar trip. How to “come down”, gently, please. I don’t want to crash. Unfortunately for Hubby “coming down” means talking his ear off, crunching over the night’s details ad nauseam, and, well, blogging it, until that first involuntary yawn.

Another yawn.

G’night, Hubby.

This has been a very good night . . .

Zzzzzzzzzzzz

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