As much as I love meeting my friends downtown to have a few drinks, mingle, and (perhaps) bust a move, I most always prefer quiet(er) nights at home with good friends after quiet days at home with my family.
Yesterday, I woke up at 7 with swollen glands and a sore throat. I buried myself in my dad's sweatshirt and meandered upstairs where my dad was watching The History Channel on the couch. I sprawled out on the couch perpendicular from him and watched "Most Extreme Airports" and lured my dog into cuddling with me. I was supposed to run with a friend at 8, but the overtly obvious sickness meddling in my throat acted as a run cancellation catalyst. Because I revert to behaviors similar to 5 year olds when I'm sick, I shuffled to my mom's room and crawled in bed with her until 9. Then, the two of us met my cousin in a small town a few minutes away to watch her son's football game. My grandparents joined us shortly after. Around 11:45, my dad's promise of a chili lunch drew us back to Mitchell. We detoured to the Urgent Care clinic and then, per my strep throat diagnosis, to the pharmacy. A little later than initially expected, we had my favorite Fall lunch with my dad and then took a family trip to the grocery store. I spent the afternoon baking, showered,and then went to my grandparents' house for supper (my grandma makes wonderful meatloaf). Despite being sick and lacking my normal spunk, yesterday was a perfect day.
Last night, some (new and old) friends came over and we shared stories around a fire. I drank a Red Hoptober and Crispin Cider and felt pleasantly warm. We made s'mores and ate too many marshmallows. I loved it.
As I watched the logs burn, I though, it's nights like these, after days like today, that subsist life. It's not extremely wild, it's not necessarily memory-making fun, but it's peaceful and warm and pleasant.
It's lovely.
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