“I’m all right… I’m all right!”

Wow. New Year’s bash indeed. It lasted for two days, and I think I slept for four hours.

We were informed that this was to be a dressy affair, and so we got all dolled up for the New Year, only to find that it wasn't exactly French champagne and hors d'œuvres. Instead, the host had brewed up a keg of “champagne” (I insisted on calling it chahm-pahg-neh, and asked if it was going to make us go blind, but I have to admit that it was rather tasty, if rednecky) and some cider. Everyone got just a little bit tipsy (OK, more than a bit). Half the party was a dance fest and the other half was an outdoor bonfire. In other words, we put on our best clothes to stand outside by a campfire drinking keg champagne. It was hilarious.

As for me, I chatted up just about everybody, danced up a storm (including learning the merengue, well, kind of), and in general had a splendid time. When my sister and I left the party at three-thirty to get some sleep, things were still in full swing, with musicians and others jamming (and singing) in the basement, dancers dancing, and drinkers drinking.

I woke up the next morning after my brother-in-law came downstairs, and we chatted and drank coffee as we waited for the others to rouse themselves. At around eleven, we went back over for a day of brunch, games, music, and watching episodes of The Office (alas, the American version, but still really funny). I left around six, completely exhausted, but happy. I went to bed at eight. I woke up at eight this morning, and now I’m here.

What’s my job again?

What did you do?