Life right now is a scene right out of some Jane Austen novel. All we seem to discuss is parties. Can't blame us too much though. For us mess-fed souls, any outing involving food is big. Big. BIG.
It just so happened that a lot of happy occasions and occurrences touched our lives. And a party of course, is the best way to share joy. Or rather, transfer some of it from the giver to the receivers. And so we plan. When, where, who, who not - endless topic, endless pleasure. Everyone is so excited, it even rubs off the unfortunate soul who knows she will end up spending a weeks hard earned wages (in most cases earned teaching Java to ungrateful brutes most of who end up knowing more about the language than them in a months time) in a day. Having paid my dues early, all I do now is look forward to weekends with a smile on my face and a hand rubbing my tummy.
Hmm. What then, is the difference between most of Jane Austen's characters and us? Can I throw emptiness and superficiality at them, living in a glass house myself? Of course! For us, this is an break from life. For them, it was life.