That I soooooo cannot hang like I used to. But, actually, I'm fine with this. Don't get me wrong, this weekend I had a BLAST; however, 4 days of staying out til the cows come home was a little much.
But still, a little much.
I guess it was just something I needed to get out of my system. Push the limits. Break my routine.
Shake things up, etc. etc.
I think from now on, however, that if I go out til really late one night, it's probably the only night I won't be in bed by midnight. Because I'm too old *lol*
I will also be seeing a lot more improv. Chicago's full of it, and I've realized that watching other people do it only makes me want to be successful at it in some capacity, that much more. Plus, it's a shit-ton of fun, and I think it's in my blood. I guess it sort of makes me feel a little more alive. Or, in other words, I'm quite passionate about it.
Now I'm rambling. In short: one late night a week is about all I can handle these days. And I'm cool with that.
Now to tend to the chores. Woo hoo.