Am no longer in the desert. I got to dance a little bit, see a lunar eclipse and a little bit of art, even witness the unscheduled burn on Monday night, but in the end I left Burning Man ahead of schedule yesterday: that cold-like thing I had before I went? It never went away. Instead, it meant that I had no reserves from which to draw in Black Rock City’s harsh environs: I got very dehydrated at the drop of a hat, which meant that I spent most of my days sitting on couches and bean-bag chairs, just trying to pull myself together; and the cold eventually flowered into what a trip to the ER last night revealed as a Whomping Case of Strep Throat. I was having no fun at all, and in the end I decided to spend the weekend at my mother’s, where at least I could ride out the fever, inability to eat solid foods, et cetera in civilized comfort.
Just before I got on the little plane that took me from the desert to Reno, a ladder blew over in a dust storm and whanged me on the head. It felt like Black Rock City saying goodbye. Oh, and yesterday I realized that I’ve lost the feeling in the little toe on my right foot, but I’m hoping that a few days out of my desert boots will clear that up.