They hate me. They really hate me!

I was trying not to take it personally. Really.

OK, I was taking it personally. Why else had they all called to say they'd be at the house in time for dinner on Friday but no earlier? Therefore no cocktail hour(s). I admit it: Fm an out-of-control control freak. I was making a perfect meal: Bobby Flay 's barbecued salmon; Israeli couscous, which I was spiffing up with saffron and grill-roasted red peppers; and a salad (from a bag - I can be lazy about salads). We would start with Pernod from the freezer, and dessert would be a delightfully thick and creamy drink made to order.

Then it hit me: they were avoiding what I claimed was that week's "cocktail du weekend"! I'd …