I really should be packing. That was my original and most productive plan for this evening. Pack and clean. Until I woke up and realized what a huge joke being responsible was and how even getting out of bed would be stand up comedy.
Currently I’m sitting on the floor, glass of tea at my feet and two extra strength advil swirling around in my circulatory system.
The party was worth it, but the hangover is intense.
Friends give me the adrenalin to stay awake for 72 hours without collapsing.But now they are all gone home and, as hard as I tried to keep the adrenalin going, I deflated like an air mattress stabbed with a machete.
Still, I have boxes to pack, a house to clean, and three more night shifts ahead. The advil is already kicking in, the tea is offering its caffeine, and 12 hours of solid sleep have helped the dark circles under my eyes. I might have a counter full of dishes, a sticky floor, and five tubs of uneaten ice-cream, but I’m satisfied and content.
Just another weekend, I guess, but special in that my trailer was full of dear people, two friends became one, the food didn’t run out, and another demon was slain.
Praise be for those who are of the-race-that-know-Joseph.
(credits Lyz Mullet)
“…but being all together is the bestest thing to do” -Winnie the Pooh