It turned out to be the sort of party where everyone ended up on the front porch watching the sun rise.
The party was amazing. There was one of those weird moments when I feel like the actions people take is hard-coded into our genes from paleolithic times, and there were just people sitting around the fire, but nobody ever had to worry about whether it was being tended or not. There’s just something about fire… people want it to keep going. Some people found big sticks, other people would bring handfuls of kindling.
We wrapped potatoes in foil and baked them in the embers. It wasn’t spoken, but everyone left smiling and smelling of campfire.
Our ex-circus couchsurfer thought that the best time for me to attempt to learn a new circus skill was directly after learning how to properly guzzle goon straight from the bag though, so we’ll see how that affects my learning curve.
I made everyone breakfast. People fell asleep on pretty much every flat surface available in the living room.
The last person left at about…6:00 this evening?
The best part of cooking way too much food is not having to cook after everyone’s left the party.
I’ve given up on waiting for an “appropriate” hour to go appreciate how wonderful my bed is.
My bed is wonderful.
I’ve heard sleep is as well, but I think I haven’t had enough experience with that recently to confirm or deny those rumours.
I might go fix that now.
foxfinding 