I remember when I was 17 attending a dance for 13-14 year-olds as a supervisor type. This involved some intense supervisory-type head-throwing-around. I can’t remember the song, but it was something appropriate for black jeans and signs of the devil. I remember the next day, my neck muscles had the strength and characteristics of a bundle of overcooked egg noodles, and I thought to myself: “I am getting too old for this.”
So, last night, at a club. Still too old for this, apparently.
The night out was with the wonderful crew for the Providence Summer game I’ve raved about occasionally, plus my Caroline of course. It was a nice evening of dinner and dancing and fine, fine drunken conversation.
Today, I am resting my neck and not moving around much. It is a treat to do nothing. The week has been mad. Got in the door from Switzy at 11pm on Tuesday, in bed at midnight, Weds out the door at 8am, back at home at 1am and straight to bed, Thurs out at 8am, back home at 9pm this time so had a few hours before sleep, then out the door at 8am on Fri and not home until 4am Sat morning, then up at 10.30 and out the door at 12, back home for a couple hours in the early eve then out again and not home finally until almost 3am. No wonder I’m not getting any bloody writing done.
Its a really beautiful day though.