Sunday night and I feel expired. This weekend was so absolutely chock full of weekendness that it's hard to slow it down enough to see the individual stripes on this spinning top.
They're but flashes of exploding light, like my own personal little fireworks show.
Funking out to this band, thinking damn, there IS something about those musicians.
The faces of the people at the homeless dinner I volunteered at this afternoon as I served them perhaps their first hot meal in a week or two.
Getting kicked out of our hotel's hottub, completely naked, at sometime around 3 or 4 this morning. (Got to cross that one off my list, too!)
Literally running into my old bud, the marathon man, outside (un)said hotel this morning.
Liquid birthday dinner with Dad.
Now it's a mere 52 hours or so since it began, but it feels much like a leap year and a millisecond rolled into one.
The painting didn't get done, but thanks to Uhu's expertise and iron willed decisiveness, I did reduce my wardrobe by about half. I thankfully did get to hang on to a few cherished items (via our most excellent 3-5 item veto system).
Now it's time to rest my weary booty shaking bod into the freshly made up bed of thick flannel sheets, and dream of early morning conversations with richly accented sexy europeans (or wait, that really did happen, heehee).
The saying IS true, it never rains it fucking pours, and I'm out there dancing in my cotton dress and rubber boots, my face tilted skywards to catch some of that warm summer rain.