After the Sunset

Do not come over. The house is a mess.

After years of sleep deprivation and the Maine cold, my body has gone weak over the last few months. No longer can I skip lunch, hold marathon writing sessions, or concentrate in the face of noise and temptations. I have become accustomed to early retirements and early risings and grown used to sharing a spacious 4-bedroom with just one other person. I'm not great at being a grown up and sometimes take out the recycling on the wrong week, but generally, I have fallen into a solid pattern and taken care of myself and the house OK. Then Thanksgiving weekend rolled around.

My house, which has adjusted to the slower pace, saw the arrival of 22 guests over 2 days. Not much compared to the flow we used to have, but it's the most we've seen since the summer. And my mom's not here to pick up after me. There are dishes to be done, floors to vacuum, and tables to clear. And I'm pooped. Just hanging out, catching up, and entertaining some of my oldest friends has tired me out. It feels as if I've just come back from the first practice of the season-- I'm sore all over and all I want to do is sleep.

Goodnight, lone reader. I hope I dream sweet dreams of sleeping, sleeping much longer than I can actually afford.