So the house work I mentioned earlier was clearing out part of an attic-like hallway that came out of my grandfather's home theatre on the second floor. Actually, the clearing out bit was only ripping the insulation he had put up however long ago and throwing it into the storage area down the hall in preparation for putting up plywood backboards in preparation for a new wall (mice keep getting in the house through the insulation so he's putting a proper wall to keep them out). There was sheetrock/drywall/whatever you call it also but we figured given our obvious lack of expertise we'd let a carpenter handle it. Working from 10 to 4 on carrying heavy boards up and down stairs and walking around in dusty, asbestos-filled air probably contributed that as well. Anyhow, the party. It wasn't so much an actual party as it was a friend of mine playing with his band for over an hour for a bunch of other people that he's friends with. It was pretty fun listening to the drummer, but the rest didn't stand out very much. Also, having been walking around all day, standing up for however long it was to listen got unpleasant. I got out of there pretty fast after the show was done. I didn't really know the guy who had invited me and I especially didn't know most of the other people there so I had no real vested interest in sticking around beyond a token attempt at conversation with my friend - I suppose I should really say acquaintance - which I did and then I left. Exciting right? Worth waiting for right? Yes, I know, I know, I live like a fucking superstar.