Well kids the party's over, it's time to go home. Time to re-hydrate, rest up and recuperate from a weekend of good food that's bad for you, good booze that's worse for you and questionable conversations that definitely entertain you. All in all, sounds like a good weekend to me but now it's back to reality. I think they have that statement backwards, though; reality is what constitutes those care-free days, it's the daily grind that is fantastical and I'll defend that position if it kills me.
A little spontaneity is good for the soul... Instead of cutting the fun short with some great people by having to be drab and socially responsible to drive back home, my girlfriend and I decided to stay and pitch a literal tent in the grass. Our decision was awarded by cold beer, mountains of food, completely uninhibited yet intelligent conversation and most importantly, love. The epic outdoor breakfast prepared over hot wood coals wasn't a bad incentive, either.
It's just amazing how you can meet some people you've never known before yet feel like you've known them all your life, and they take you right in. You fit. That, my friends, is a very real thing and having to cut yourself off from that to go back to voluntary slavery is the real crime.
But, we get through it; rinse and repeat. You go to work and try not to lose your shit and just do what you need to to make it through until the next time you get to go back to the one true reality, that little place where life and celebrating it together intersect. That's where you want to be.
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