It's a rite of passage, I suppose.

Tomorrow night, G's boss and his boss' wife are coming over for dinner and I'm completely freaking out, people. I'm not sure why--it's not like I've never thrown a dinner party before. But for whatever reason, I'm having the kind of anxiety usually reserved for first-time skydiving and OB/GYN appointments. I should be in the kitchen making the sauce for my baked ziti, but instead I'm sketching elaborate plans to develop an appendicitis in the late afternoon. A properly timed emergency surgery is sure to necessitate a reschedule, don't you think? The only flaw I can see is my lack of appendix. Plan B, anyone?