Hostess with the Mostest

Nothing screams “adult” more than hosting an event or having a house guest. In doing so, you’re saying, “Look, I have my own space, which constitutes a home, and I wish to invite you into my fabulously adult dwelling and show you how neat my adult life is.” It’s a power move. And usually fun as hell to boot.

Having hosted a fancy Wine and Cheese Party, more than one pyramid scheme sales event, and a wedding-centerpiece-making Glue Gun and Cocktails night, I feel as though I sufficiently have the event hosting bit down. Nailed it. Hosting a guest for an extended period of time is a whole ‘nother ballgame.

First off, you’ve got the prep. This entirely depends on the guest coming.

Dust elephants, you're not invited to the party.

If it’s my mom or someone who’s never been to my place before, it’s a week-long scrub down event, culminating in a last minute scramble the day of. Side A of my Neil Diamond Classics (the early years) album played in looped until every detail is settled – it’s approximately 15 minutes long, which helps with timing things. This scrubbing also involves organizing the freshly purchased "healthy" snacks in the fridge (a far cry from the dozen takeout boxes that you just emptied the contents of - into your belly, no wasting). Upon their arrival, I casually apologize that my place is such a mess, and act as though it’s typically more spotless than this even and right now is in total disarray. It’s all about perception.

If it’s someone who’s been to my place previously (an old college pal, my sister, etc.) then it really comes down to the wire. I spend about a week evaluating how much cleaning I have to do before they arrive, while lazily doing nothing. Maybe laundry so I have towels for them. Then it all comes down to the hours before their arrival, a total frantic scramble. No Neil Diamond. All club music with a beat to match my pace. Sometimes there’s a cocktail involved. Hide all the things and hope they don’t open any drawers or doors. Do all this scrambling in a tank and shorts, because you’ll be sweating if you’re doing it right. Quick shower and show up at the door looking like you’ve just been lounging about, awaiting their arrival. Cool as a cucumber at Lambeau. Apologize for the mess. Normally it’s (more) spotless.

In both circumstances, there’s a list to be made. Must check things off the list. Check them off even if you didn’t do them, but actually do at least half the things. This list again varies drastically depending on who is being hosted.

Note how the "Mom" list is meticulous, room-by-room cleaning, and is several pages long.
The "Friend" list involves hydrating, stocking the fridge and stretching out "party pants."
The owl notebook judges no one.

With old friends especially, or frequent guests, the key to hosting is simple: snacks, drinks, sheets, towels and TP. The rest falls into place as needed.  You’ve got this. Best host ever.

AND. On the bright side, no matter how on point you are with getting everything ready as quickly as possible before their arrival… they’ll still show up late anyways. So sit back, have a cocktail (and/or write a quick blog post) and get ready to host the hell out of them once they mosey on in. Because you’re a g’damn adult. This is what you were born to do.