1. You clean the whole place beforehand, despite knowing how futile this is
2. You’re gripped by extreme playlist anxiety. What’s cool these days? What do the kids like?
3. When no one has arrived at about ten minutes past the specified time, you panic, even though you KNOW that specified arrival time = one hour later than specified arrival time
4. The first person to arrive is nearly always the one you know the least, meaning you’re using every bit of your conversational arsenal to fill the awkward silences
5. Finally, more people arrive. You remember that you only own four glasses in this world, and your dream of a sophisticated gathering is crushed as you hand someone a ’21st Birthday Girl!!’ mug
6. The first spillage happens about 15 minutes later. You pray it will be the last
7. You realise at some stage that you’re still going around in your slippers (or another comfy item of your choice), and decide that this is the best part of hosting predrinks
8. You’re suddenly struck with fear about The Neighbours. Can they hear? Are they in? Are the guards approaching your front door right this very minute?
9. You bought Doritos and Pringles for your guests, but it’s fair to say you have eaten most of them
9. Three spillages in and you’re milling through kitchen paper like it’s going out of fashion. Everyone’s going to think you’re one of those people who doesn’t care about using kitchen paper
11. But after a couple of drinks, you are filled with love and gratitude. Look at me, here, with the people I care about around me. Well, not Ciara’s friend Brenda from college, I don’t know her. Everyone else though, legends
12. Then, after realising that your guests have somehow gone through three loo rolls in an hour, you wonder “Who are these people and why did I let them into my house?”
13. This feeling only grows stronger in the morning when you go downstairs and see, in the cruel light of day, the immense pile of filth that is your home
14. A film of sticky residue covers every surface in the house, from kitchen counters to the coffee table to, inexplicably, the couch
15. You need that couch to lie down and contemplate your life on, so you have no choice but to begin the grim process of cleaning up, fighting the urge to dry heave as you do so
16. But at least you’ll have enough ends of bottles of 7Up, €8 wine, and random cans of cider to last you until the end of time? So it all evens out
