Joyful

I’ll tell you what I do for fun. I hunt down fellow bloggers, and invade their houses, and drink all their wine. Fear me.

I’m serious. On Friday, I was over at Shannon‘s house (Shannon and her family are wonderful, wonderful, wonderful), putting food of Advanced Yumminess into my face, drinking considerable quantities of white wine, and no doubt gesticulating vigorously with my fork in between mouthfuls and laughing raucously. My fellow guests were the Hairy Farmer Family’s Wifey (who is not hairy), and Bumbling, who were both being charming, funny, interesting, intelligent and generally all-round excellent. Did I let the side down? No idea. Was drinking. Was talking head off. Was among my people. Wheeeeee! (God, I needed that. If ever woman needed to get plastered and laugh and feel grokked, I was that woman).

And then there was a blurred interval, including a bed, and pyjamas, and me thinking, woebegonely, that I was going to need more coffee than containable in one human bladder to function the next day, and the sun rose on bacon for breakfast. And bagels. And (thankyouthankyouthankyou) coffee. And snuggling on the sofa with the kids, who are so cute I seriously contemplated hiding under the stairs with the dog and refusing to go home, just so I could watch cartoons with them from time to time. And now I have freaked Shannon out completely and I will never be invited again.

It’s the strangest, most wonderful thing that the internet has given me. Real friends. It’s too big a gift to take in. All I can do is sit here, stunned and thankful, and be astonished at it all.

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