yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn

The party last night was massive bundles of fun. It really was. I got home from work at five-ish to people everywhere. (Funny how I don't mind that as much when I know it's going to happen.) Saw a bunch of people I haven't seen in years. One of them tried to strangle me--old grudge from my abrupt departure to Norway.

So after me and some friends got a few drinks in us, we played all manner of stupid games. Hillbilly golf, horseshoes, tackle football, and even Marco Polo (the hard version without the "Marco!" or "Polo!") There was music, dancing, fireworks, and general tomfoolery--all in all, a good party.

Now it starts to get iffy though. Stayed up till five in the morning, slept three hours, woke up, and went to work. Since I knew that was going to be a bitch, I wasn't too ruffled by the ordeal.

Then I came home to a house full of people again. Not the fun people from yesterday that I spent the day with, but most of the people that I don't really care to talk to or hang out with.

It's been five hours; they're still here. Music's going, little kids are in my pool, and I just wanna go to bed and sleep before I have to get up and go to work yet again tomorrow.

Seriously.

I spent a solid ten hours yesterday drinking, dancing, swimming, and having an unbelievably good time. Is that not enough for people? Am I unique in this respect--that after a night like that, I just want to be left the hell alone to recover in silence?

After party, my ass.