My tongue is sweating.

My tongue is sweating.

    We've just been invited to a party that's from "6 p.m till..."

    Those dots are lethal in my book. I like to know when things begin and end. Tidy.  

    Don't get me wrong: I love parties, especially parties thrown by other people.  And these days, when the economy is what it is, I'm downright thrilled to be on anyone's guest list.  

    It's just that, now, at my more mature age, I'm not particularly good with parties that go into the wee hours, which is what those dots suggest.
    Years back, I was more than good with parties that trickled on forever.  Dot-dot-dots were my ticket to dancing till dawn, buckling into meaningful conversations about nothing, seeing the sun rise, watching the boundaries deteriorate. Pure heaven, those promising dots. ?  

      Today, unfortunately, they don't have the same connotation.  Three dots equal stress.  As in:  How long must I stay to avoid the party-pooper label?  How do I extract myself when the time comes?  Why can’t I stop thinking about my squishy bed?  Is it rude to sneak out without saying goodbye?   May I cram sliders in my pockets on the way out??        Let's face it:  Three dots in middle age are simply not the same as three dots in younger years.  ?        In fact, I don't even know what middle-agers do with three dots.?        Do we ditch our willpower, stuff ourselves silly, and then let it all hang out by unbuttoning our waistband??        Do we throw caution to the wind and disclose the toenail fungus we've been battling for years??        Do we cry "Let's get this party started!" and then collapse in a heap because our knees give out? ?        Or, do we walk on the wild side and switch from wine coolers to the real deal??        Honestly, what?  What do we do now that no one plays card games or over-drinks and starts talking like Donald Duck??        Since we're on the topic of never-ending things, I'd be remiss if I didn't bring up the most egregious never-ending act ever: the open-ended airline ticket of visiting houseguests.  Shoot me now!  ?        Why do people make such loosey-goosey plans?  Is there an element of torture involved??        Host:  "Hey, welcome!  And how long can we expect the pleasure of your company?"?        Houseguest  "Oh, hmmm, gee, we don't know."?        Host:  "No idea? Not a clue?"?        Houseguest:  "We don't like to be boxed in, so we left our ticket open-ended."?        Host:  "I see.  I need to go out for a while.  Text me if you'd like something from the pharmacy or liquor store."

 All I’m saying is that closure is good, especially for us middle-agers who lead very busy lives in front of the TV.   We need to know when things end…even columns.  On that note:  Too-da-loo!