Muddy memories

When work becomes too <insert adjective>, I find myself drifting back to moments in my life where I was carefree.  One of my favorite memories occurred during my sophomore year at Southwestern University. 

The university had just plowed a field in preparation for a parking lot construction job and it had been raining hard.  Exhausted from our duteous studies, five friends decided that it would be a brilliant idea to put on our dingiest clothes and frolic in the muddy field.

At first, the plan was just to run around but then a certain friend of mine decided to get in a competition with me as usual.  And as usual, even though she always won anything competition we engaged in, I rose to the bait.  This then turned the experience into a muddy "fight" until the bitter end (we were all too cold).  As we emerged from the pit, we asked an unsuspecting person enjoying a stroll on campus to take our picture.  Little did we know that during dinner that night, we would be the topic of conversation for the surrounding tables.

And my skin felt amazing for weeks after.  Perhaps from the mud.  Perhaps from the scrubbing.  Perhaps from just letting my hair down for a bit and enjoying nature in its finest.