On Friday night, I felt it coming. I was really drowsy hours before bedtime and, when I finally tried falling asleep, I couldn’t because I had a scratchy throat. After sleeping for maybe four hours, I woke up and felt okay, but not amazing. (I won’t even talk about how I then started getting cramps, at which point I almost cancelled my whole trip.)
Saturday was a mixed bag. The two-hour drive down to the shore was actually tolerable and I felt good when I got there. I chatted with my aunt and her friends, had a drink, and was feeling positive about things. Since I was spending my time mostly with the “adults” for the day, I was glad that I felt comfortable talking to them instead of being the odd one out. We changed into our pirate costumes and were ready to go.
L-R: Uncle Russ, me, Mike, Aunt Laura, Kimmy & Cheryl (my aunt's friends)
The beginning of the party was great – we watched as all the neighbors made their way down the street in various costumes. We posed for pictures, had food and drinks, and it was pretty enjoyable. After dinner, though, I started feeling not-so-hot, to the point where I actually considered going home. I’m glad I stuck it out, though, because I eventually regained my energy and ended up dancing a bit with my aunt and her friends.
My fishy cupcakes!
Even though I felt better physically, I was becoming increasingly annoyed with my cousin. She arrived late with her friends from college and spent the evening playing beer pong, barely offering me an invite to join them. (Looking back, it seems as though it was assumed I would just join the “kids” once they arrived, therefore not needing an explicit invite; hindsight’s twenty-twenty, I guess.)
Once the sun went down, I was having less and less fun. The adults were all chatting amongst themselves, nobody was dancing, and my cousin was nowhere to be found. I sat texting friends on my dying phone when my cousin finally showed up, twenty minutes before the party ended, and went to dance with her friends with nary an invite for me to join them.
At that point, I knew I was being stubborn and could have easily joined them, but I also didn’t want to awkwardly jump in. In a moment of extreme hormonal emo-ness, I walked up the street alone, got changed and packed up in the empty house, and even considered leaving without saying goodbye to anyone. Everyone returned to the house a few minutes later, the kids setting up to play more beer pong and the adults pouring glasses of wine; I made a swift exit before I stewed in my bitterness any longer.
I collapsed into bed Saturday night and on Sunday, I woke up with the horrible cold that my brother passed to me. Instead of enjoying the gorgeous weather, I spent all of Sunday and Monday in bed, playing video games and moaning about how stuffed up my head was. Today I’m feeling a little better, but I think it’ll take another day or two to knock it out of my system.
Hopefully everyone else had a better Labor Day weekend than I did!
