You know that feeling, the day after something amazing has happened, when you wake up tired because your body still hasn't recovered from the adrenaline jag you were on for fifteen hours straight the previous day? When all of those buzzy little endorphins that turned your body into a walking Disneyland have burned off and you are left feeling like a cheap carnival the morning after, with sticky walkways and the smell of stale corndogs floating in the air? I'm there. (Though, I have to admit I did celebrate heartily yesterday, so my hangover might not be entirely emotional.)
I still have all the same reasons to be deliriously happy - and for the record, I am still deliriously happy - but my body has had enough fun and games and has decided I must be exhausted even though I just slept for a solid eight hours (which is longer than my usual). I'm not let down; I'm just worn out. Give me a sec to get my wind back and I'll be Disneyland again.
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