The text came just hours before we were due at the concert. It was New Year's Eve and my extended friend group had plans to see a show at Madison Square Garden before heading back to someone's apartment for an after-party. It seemed, however, that the host of said after-party was interested in changing the location. To my place. And though there was no real reason this new plan wouldn't work, it was, for me at least, a major problem. While my apartment is big by New York standards and does have a few flourishes I’m particularly proud of — shout out to my ultra-mod coffee table and avocado green couch — the notion of welcoming more than a few close friends over for a hangout (and last minute!) sends me into an anxiety spiral. Why, you ask? Well, I’m messy. Not dirty, necessarily (though if I’m being honest, my bathroom could use a serious scrub-down right now), but just inherently messy. I’m the kind of person who can walk into a hotel room and somehow manage to spew my stuff across every surface in under five minutes.