Parked City

This is my last night in Park City and I am beyond exhausted. I am also crushed because my husband thought it would be a good idea to start a fight with me. This happens, like clockwork, every time I go to a festival. Day 6 hits and he starts to turn into a little whiny bitch and actually gets mad at me for being away for too long. Yes, yes, I'm doing it to spite you. It's not a work trip. Like god damned clockwork. Every festival. And I just can't take it. I have to hang up. I don't know what he thinks I'm doing out here but comments like "you have fun out there with your late night parties and affairs" and "are you drunk" every two seconds start to get old fast. Yes, I drink more than usual at festivals but that comes with the territory. In fact, it is mandatory to be social and engage in borderline illicit activities for my job. Mandatory, I say! He hates me for it. I think he thinks I'm one of those acquisitions people who cheat on their significant others in other cities. Well I'm not. Sure, I may have had a flirtatious encounter or two but that is not really the same. In fact, it is necessary in order to calm my ego and make me feel like I'm not a cane toad. I'm human. I'm not a festival monster who fucks CAA agents so we can share clients and I've never let Harvey touch me. Sure, I've batted an eyelash or two but come on, I think I could still slip into those pearly gates.