Ha. Ha ha.
Sixteen people showed up (for reference, the maximum seating capacity in my apartment is seventeen), including regulars, a new person, and two old friends who have not been in Hyde Park in years. My apartment was ringing with song and fellowship.
On top of all that, there was a four-year-old boy in my building who went missing for an hour, and his parents were frantic and asking everyone if they'd seen him. None of the singers arriving saw him, but just as we got ready to start, the police returned the boy to his parents, so we led off with "The Prodigal Son" in his honor. And then we were off and running, singing from four books, with close to fifteen years' worth of Hyde Park singing experience represented in the room.
And I thought no one would come . . .