And The Countdown Begins...

Tensions are high in the Charnas-Bezek household. I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack.

I'm so fucking tired of this god-damn party...I'm exhausted, cranky and bitchy...redundant, I know. I'm ready to slap strangers and pull hair.

I've strained some muscles in my shoulder and cut up my hands and arms (to the point that they were bleeding) moving some stupid fucking topiary trees for the stupid party. Will and I are fighting and I'm working on 3 hours of sleep. I'm now deeply concerned that some fucking Retardo Montalban is going to light up a cigarette near the hay that is scattered all over the barn and set Santa Barbara on fire.

I'm thinking of getting the hell out of here until tomorrow. Could any of you use a house guest? I do dishes and I'm polite and fairly good at conversation. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?