The Drop

It's inevitable. Well, for me, at least. Some people on FetLife said they don't feel post-party drop -- they just enjoy the memories and good feelings. How I envy them.

I thought I'd escaped it this time, but it seems that it was delayed. I came back to distractions such as work and a nasal infection, plus all the usual catching up (blogging, posting, etc.) that comes after a party. But now that that's all settled, work had quieted once again and my nose is healing, now I've crashed. 

FetLife has moved on... they're already abuzz about BBW in April. But John and I won't go to another party or see our friends until next Labor Day. So I need to steel myself and not let that make me sad. Easier said than done, of course. I will basically have a case of FOMO from now until August.

John and I were both lucky. I didn't come down with this stupid, painful infection until we came home, and he managed to have one of his good weekends for the party. Poor guy was back to being under the weather this weekend -- tired, coughing, sleeping poorly. His next sleep study appointment isn't until the end of this month. The health system drags on at the speed of snails.

In other words, getting back to reality blows. These party weekends are such extreme escapism.

I will get a couple of transfusions of friendship and love and play this week -- Steve tomorrow, and on Thursday I get to have another girlie lunch with Alex and SpankCake. I love that Alex lives here in L.A. again! And SC, although she hasn't been blogging, is very much alive and well and I so enjoy her company.

And look out, Southern CA... Princess Kelley May is moving here! She is a party coordinator extraordinaire -- maybe between having her here, and what with Alex and Paul and some others, we can finally resurrect the limping, straggling Los Angeles spanking scene? One can only hope. And I'll bet if Kelley found us a venue for a spanking party, it wouldn't be a freaking BDSM dungeon. :-)

So, onward. Drag my sorry ass to the gym once again. (It feels like sandpaper now. My ass, not the gym.) 

Who watched the Oscars last night? I don't know why I keep watching them; maybe it's a cultural literacy thing. Maybe I just like looking at the dresses. Or I wait for the little delights, like having the incomparable Sidney Poitier, bless his 87-year-old heart, as one of the presenters. But overall, they aren't the way they used to be.

Then again, what is?