Kage Baker always said, “Don’t plan anything important for the Monday after a Faire weekend.”
This is wisdom pure and undiluted, as one is always mostly dead on those Mondays. Even if one went in civvies, did nothing strenuous or useful, and even left before moonrise. Which, most unusually for me, I actually did. And I didn’t even have to drive home, being instead kindly ferried by a good friend.
Nonetheless, even with a quiet Sunday under my belt now, I am still half dead today. Getting the nephew to and from college was a real challenge; even apart from the weather, which is currently threatening most unseasonable rain. And this after Saturday being in the 90’s when I was in Irwindale! The seasons these days are like the ones in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, but not with such nice illustrations.
In the meantime, there were laundry and dish loads to do; a malware scare to track down and innoculate the home network against; lots of e-correspondence of the “My God, what were you doing out there?!?” variety. Also, I slept a lot.
Because Kage was right – you never get anything done the Monday after the Faire weekend before. If you are normally lucky, you get to unpack the car from the night journey just past, when you got home at 2 AM and were too tired to do more than unearth your deodorant and carry it indoors. If you are only slightly lucky, you got home today, wincing and shrinking in the daylight like a lost vampire. And if you are really unlucky, you woke up in a back seat or a cheap motel room in Buttonwillow, wondering where to get a fuel pump for your cherished mid-60’s VW squareback that became an expensive paperweight somewhere about midnight on I-5 …
Real life, Dear Readers. The bane of all performers. More reminiscences tomorrow, when my brain comes back online.