The Morning After
It's half past 10 in the morning as I sit down to write this. I've been up since about a little before 9am – showered, fresh clothes, and a relatively clear head. It's miraculous really, because I didn't sleep.
A certain person isn't in such a good state this morning – how she managed to walk home is a mystery and a half. I stayed up to look after her. She will be fine, and anyway – her birthday party was brilliant.
(five hours pass)
I'm still going. Still plodding along. I've been back to the party venue twice to retrieve various items left over from the party – table decorations, jars filled with penny sweets, and numerous presents. We now have an embarrassing number of Prosecco bottles in the wine rack (the rack has had two bottles of mulled wine in it for the last two years).
While going through the various bags from the party this afternoon I found some of the photo booth photos, and all sorts of memories from the night flooded back – catching up with old friends, drinking just a little bit too much, and laughing until our faces hurt on the dance floor.
We got home at about 1am, after walking through silent streets. While walking with a wonderful friend, I realised how lucky I am to count so many great people among my circle of friends. I've never really thought of myself as having many friends, but the party made me realise that I really do.
Anyway.
Now I'm wondering about either having a couple of hours sleep now, or pushing through until late evening, and catching up on sleep tonight.