I’m definitely a selective worrier. I don’t worry a whole lot over things I probably should worry over (finances, long-term things), but in a social setting, I worry about everything.
You know, a friend once invited me to a concert, and I accepted and he drove (it was in a city a couple of hours away).
He parked and got a ticket for not having a number plate on the front of his car (no longer an offense here, but it was at the time).
His car, his event so to speak, he drove, he parked, he chose not to have his number plate on the front, and…simply because I was along for the ride, I felt so bad that I had somehow caused it to happen, thinking, “If I hadn’t come along, he probably would have parked somewhere else and the missing number plate wouldn’t have been noticed,” that I insisted on paying the fine (something like $50).
I would admit to being extremely (I probably should say overly) sensitive to everyone’s moods around me.
Both MrsT’s sister have visited (separately), and they both always laugh and say they love to visit because it’s like staying in a hotel/restaurant with a personal butler, because while they’re here, I just stand around anticipating anything they might want/need.
I don’t even eat with them, I cook and serve everything, and usually stand in the kitchen and eat, with my ear cocked, in case I hear something like, “Are there any olives, by any chance?” - then I hurriedly bowl some up and burst out of the kitchen with olives.
They used to complain that I wouldn’t eat with them, thinking it was more of a snotiness on my part, until they finally figured out that the staff doesn’t eat with the guests!
Yes, definitely - something’s wrong, and if it’s something I organized, I need to fix it. It’s my responsibility for setting the whole thing up.
Nailed it, 100%.
Way back in 2005, I think, we hosted my in-laws’ 50th anniversary party, which meant an informal cookout at our house and a formal dinner at a local country club.
The two sisters were highly irritated that neither of them were chosen, but we were centrally-located, so it fell to us. We had to book rooms for out-of-town guests, arrange a photographer, work with the country club on the dinner, arrange gift-giving time, and stage a cookout for about 40 people.
It was terrible because of the two sisters. They were so angry, they worked to sabotage anything they could at every turn.
They complained about everything, and kept pointing out, “This is wrong…that’s wrong…this isn’t right…that’s not going to work…,” but wouldn’t actually help with anything - at one point, they both, in unison said, when asked to help with some clearing away, “It’s not my party, I’m on vacation!” - that was their little dig at neither being chosen to host.
It was miserable. Everybody was miserable. It poisoned the whole thing, but the funny thing was, at the cookout, my parents and my brother and his wife were there, and so it was this display of what I earlier called East Coast Directness versus Midwest Politeness - seven of us (counting MrsT on our side for this one) were running around like crazy trying to counteract all the, well frankly, bitchiness of her two sisters and their families.
It was like Super Friends versus the Legion of Doom!
