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Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

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Party Animal....

The Party Animal

My honey is behaving obsessively again.  He gets a party or social occasion on his mind that he wants to go to and absolutely drives me crazy about it until it is over.  It doesn't have to be anything major or even important.  It just has to be something he wants to do.

For example, last week he told me we were invited to a wedding.

"Whose?" I asked, as I couldnít think of anyone we knew.

"Angela's daughter and her finance."

"Who's that?"

"Somebody I work with."

"Okay, we can go."  It didnít seem like a big deal to me.  We just pick up a gift sometime between now and then and show up. It's not for a month. We don't really know them. Something could even come up between now and then.  Of course, it would have to be a hurricane, earthquake, or forest fire.  Even then, he would probably want to go.

He obsessed about it for a week.  I heard him tell two or three people that we were invited to a wedding.  It's just somebody's daughter at work, not someone close, not even someone we know, for Pete's sake!  I would think there was something going on with Angela if I didnít know that he always obsesses about small stuff.

Later, he decided we needed to go get the gift.

"But itís not for three more weeks!  We have plenty of time."

"They are registered!"

"Good, that makes it easier.  You just go buy something.  Sometimes the store will even wrap it free if the bride is registered."

"Do you want to go?" he asked, with one foot out the door already. I knew he would not shut up about it until he got the gift.

Now, ninety-nine men out of a hundred would be thinking of ways to get out of going and would pick up a gift on the way to the church if they could not come up with a good reason not to go.  Why do I have the only man out of a hundred that has to plan everything months ahead?

"Why donít you go get it?  Just figure out how much you want to spend and get something on the list."  I figured he couldn't go far wrong and I was busy with something else at the time.

So, he was off to get the gift.  He also wanted to have a suit tailored to wear.  You would think it was the social event of the season, or that he was in the wedding party.

He came home several hours later.  "I couldnít decide what to get," he said. "So, I got this."  He produced a giant cooking pot.  "It was on the list."

"Well, if it was on the list, I guess it is okay."  Not what I would have chosen for a gift, but what does it matter.

"How can we wrap it?" he wondered. I could feel another obsessive behavior coming on.  Now that he had the gift, he would obsess about wrapping it. 

"What about a gift bag?"

"Okay, thatís a good idea.  Iíll go get one now.  And a card too."  So he was off again.

After getting the bag, I figured he would obsess about wrapping it.  I showed him how to put it in the bag and put tissue on top.

"Is that all there is to it?"  He seemed surprised.

"That's it."

So, the gift is wrapped and ready.  I guess I will have to hear about going to a wedding for three more weeks, but we have the gift.

Now he is obsessing about another party, this one being given by the fantasy football team office league.

"When is that?"

"After football season is over and we know who wins."

"Football season just started!"  I thought it was next week, or something by the way he was carrying on.

"I will have to hear about some pizza and beer blast until the end of football season?  Can't we just wait until the week before?"  Who am I kidding?  He has probably made reservations already and is deciding which T-shirt and jeans to wear in case they need to be tailored.

I donít think I can stand it.  The man is a party animal.

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss


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