Organising the Snowbombing adventure for me and ten of my mates was the first big trip I’d organised myself. There are enough trips happening that I was hardly ever required to do much organising. Usually I just say yes to the adventure, pay the money and show up at the time and place I was told to. Which is usually a good thing, because I’m horrid host/organiser. I get host/organiser anxiety about being in control, and making sure everything is fine and it is as brilliant as I sold it when I was recruiting adventurers. Things that don’t go quite right (like checking in to the registration desk, but the wristband desk isn’t open and we’d have to come back later) throw me for six and I get all angsty. Sometimes small things, like holding the departure transfer tickets makes me feel better. Or throwing money at whatever it is. I’m that host that always has too much food, and too much everything, really. I over prepare.

At Snowbombing, it was someone shoving me out of the kitchen with a quite firm “You’re not in control here” that made me say fuck it. At that point I left organising all the people to the wolves and pretty much just went and partied by myself. Drinking all the jager and dancing all the dances made me feel much better about things. It was a good plan, because although I didn’t see at the time (I was quite put out and resentful, actually, that said Chef didn’t appreciate all the organising I’d done, and did so by pointing out my faults) turns out people like doing their own thing in their own time. They were all adults and perfectly capable of organising themselves.

Which is why I was surprised when a friend who came to Snowbombing asked for what weekends I have free. Apparently it’s a surprise, to say “thanks” for organising everything. Except, here is the thing. I HATE surprises. I hate not knowing. Even worse is that I got a few random hints. It’s a group thing, though some people I know will probably be coming. It’s on a Sunday, an afternoon/early evening thing. It’s got some cost involved, apparently. That’s it. My cousin Morf is coming, too. I thought I’d be able to scrounge a few details out of him at least, but he told me that if he gave anything away that I’d have an expectation that he didn’t really want to have responsibility for.

The Elly that likes to be things to be in her sphere of control is really really struggling with being okay about this. I asked for reassurance from Morf that I shouldn’t worry, and that it would all be fine, and he gave it to me in the exact same words that I used to ask. Goober. I’m also a bit too proud to be asking questions and making a fuss. I don’t really want people to know that I’m angsting as something as minor as this. A surprise is meant to be fun, right? I shouldn’t ask all my friends in subtle little ways whether their coming to this thing, and find out through them what ever this surprise is. Except that I did try. I gave up after asking the first friend, realising that if he was in on it, he probably wasn’t going to tell me he was.

In the end I figured I’ll be around friends, whoever they are, that’s enough. I don’t really need to worry about the details, and thinking about it only makes me anxious. Holding on to that one comforting thought, I’ll be with friends, reduced the anxiety so I could move on and not worry about it. It’s just under a week away. I’ll let you know how it goes.