Day seven of life after the festival and here's what I have to report: my arm still hurts from playing too much Wii Tennis with Bill Pullman, it feels ridiculous to go to bed before 4 a.m. (so I refuse), I desperately miss lots of my co-workers, and I feel the urge to sleep on my floor as if it's a hotel room I'm sharing with four other people. I'm apparently ruined for life (or at least the next week until I adapt back to boring Beckyland).
On top of that strangeness the day the festival ended I woke up with purple marker all over my face after Stef's ingenius (please sense the sarcasm here) game called "Mystery Knucks." Basic premise is that various people write four letter words (clean and not so clean) on knuckles in permanent marker without knowing what is being written on the other hand. To make that day even more odd, a man walked into my hotel room this morning while I was sitting there naked after getting out of the shower. When I checked out he came over and offered me a peppermint stick. I sense symbolism, but am certain it could have been a peace offering. (Although I'm not sure how "I saw your boobs, want some candy?" makes it any less uncomfortable.)
If nothing else I really remember how much I love documentaries (real life is always so much more interesting to me than fiction) and a reminder that I'm still full of fun (which I was beginning to doubt).
Today I'm grateful for my own bed, unpacking, documentaries.
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