Sunday evening, we had friends over for dinner.
I didn’t tidy the kitchen. I didn’t spend hours cooking. I didn’t even check between the sofa cushions for underwear.
We’ve known these two couples for 12 years, so I no longer feel the need to pretend I’m a respectable housekeeper who doesn’t allow the dogs to lick the plates after meals.
I thought about this midway through dinner when it occurred to me I hadn’t even made sure there was toilet paper in the guest bath.
Part of me felt bad about that.
And part of me felt grateful to have friends who are comfortable enough in my home to march out of the bathroom muttering, “Tawna, you disgusting slob, where’s your butt buffer?”
It’s something that’s been on my mind a lot lately with this blog, too. I’ve been delighted to see a recent uptick in brand new visitors journeying over from other blogs with enviously high traffic. Agent Janet Reid has kindly linked to me a couple times on her blog, and Lucy March (a.k.a. New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Lani Diane Rich) has generously included a link to my blog in the sidebar of hers.
Each time someone new shows up, I have a moment of panic. Did I post something entertaining today? Was I funny enough to keep them coming back?
Then I feel like a jerk, because shouldn’t I care just as much about being funny and entertaining for those of you who’ve been showing up all along?
This is me being neurotic, I suppose. Deep down, I know I care every bit as much for old friends as I do new ones. It’s just a different dynamic. I’ve already had the chance to make a first impression on blog visitors who’ve been coming around awhile. You know about my dirty jokes and my dirty house, and you keep showing up anyway.
For that, I am insanely grateful.
And the new visitors? Well, all I can do is what I’ve been doing, and hope that’s enough to keep you showing up, too. If not, hey – I’m just glad you stopped by.
Those of you who have blogs of your own – do you do this, too? Do you get nervous when new visitors arrive? Do you re-read your own posts thinking, “crap, I wish she’d dropped by on a day I wasn’t posting pictures of how I eat bananas with my feet?”
I’d love to hear from you in the comments – both old friends and new. All of you make me do happy dances in my underwear.
Underwear I’ll try not to leave in the sofa cushions if you happen to stop by.