60-hippie monsoon

This morning INTERN is bleary of eye and shaky of hand, and intensely relieved to be back at her little nook at the office after a lengthy 4th of July weekend-turned-surrealist movie.

It went like this:

Saturday, 7:03 PM: Roommate: "Hey, I met some cool people who live on a circus bus and I invited them over for a potluck."

8:12 PM: Bus-dwelling circus people arrive, wearing (most fittingly) an assortment of tutus, fur coats, colorful capes, and giant shoes. They bring lots of extra friends but no food, so INTERN's boyfriend starts making a vat of chili to feed the hordes.

9:00 PM: Off-the-wall hilarity when a young gentleman on LSD starts making amorous advances on the unsuspecting living room carpet. His girlfriend, also on LSD, pouts in a corner, her fairy wings folded up behind her back. Kids, this is why INTERN stays away from drugs.

10:10 PM: INTERN ducks into her bedroom to get something to find that four slightly out-of-place hipsters have pushed her bed against the wall and are setting up a drum kit, amps, and mics. "Uh, the guy with the clown wig said we could play a show in here."

11:00 PM: There is, indeed, some kind of indie-techno show going down in INTERN's bedroom. It is awesome. People are dancing sweatily and the band is clearly having the time of its life.

12:00 AM: Fireworks. (obviously)

12:40 AM: People start coming back into the house after the fireworks. The chili is finally ready, and the masses chow down.

1:30 AM: It becomes obvious that nobody has any intention of leaving...until MONDAY. Roomate: "Oh yeah, I thought a big sleepover would be fun."

This is where INTERN started to get nervous. There is nothing INTERN loves more than a good party, and technically a 60-hippie sleepover sounds like a barrel of fun, but there is a little snag when it comes to sleeping which is: INTERN must sleep or her already-tenuous grasp on reality will dissolve.

2:30 AM: It becomes obvious that nobody has any intention of sleeping...until MONDAY. The atmosphere is noisy and frenetic. INTERN takes a sleeping pill and barricades herself in her room.

4:30 AM: Banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. INTERN, heavily sedated, stumbles out of her room to see what is up. Two circus girls are boiling their menstrual cups on the stove. They explain the mechanics and environmental advantages of said to a dazed INTERN. INTERN goes back to bed.

5:30 AM: Someone is ringing a Tibetan gong to mark the sunrise. People are chanting.

At risk of making this an overly long, completely non-publishing related post, INTERN will sum up the rest of party by saying the second half of it was basically like watching the first half again in rewind. By Monday morning, INTERN was a cheerful and gracious yet mildly psychotic bundle of life. The circus bus left. INTERN, boyfriend, and roommate collapsed on various pieces of furniture.

Tuesday and Wednesday were bonafide mental health days: sleep, herbal tea, and lots of whole grains.

Today is Thursday! INTERN is back at her aforementioned nook, with a stack of manuscripts as high as a table waiting to be sorted through and read. Life is veryveryvery good!