Beerfest on Saturday, margarita-induced proclamations of love, antique shopping for proper wet bar accoutrements (in anticipation of my brother's forthcoming visit), and karaoke at my bar with many of my favorite people serenading each other with truly, truly horrific covers.
Nothing could remove the smile from my face, except for the inevitable cold I got from partying too hard. Now, I suffer, but I'm still way too productive: before noon today, I had two loads of laundry going, had let the plumber into the bar to fix the leaky water heater, did mine and my bar's banking (my boss is in Hawaii for the week; she's on a board that gives grants to artists, the decisions of which can apparently only be made in paradise), and still made it to work on time.
I wish I could paint a more vivid picture, but all of my writing ability is currently being smothered by snot.