Last night was the special performance and highly successful taping of The School For Wives, and while attendance was light, I think it might've been one of the best shows yet. I started writing something midway through about how I felt about watching the words of the show trickle by my fingers (because much like John in A Prayer for Owen Meany, I have to keep track on my script with my hand or else I lose my place; I don't have to do this when I'm reading normally but it helps during the plays when I'm working) knowing that each word spoken was one more word closer to the end of this lovely experience (I don't think I originally used the words "lovely experience"). After the show we had a little potluck, and for me, the highlights were joking around with Paul about NPR, Troy's pumpernickel bread, Charles cutting himself (that was sanctified wine we were drinking) and Christian's book pitch. Also, discussing rehearsing "The Emperor and the Bird of Paradise" with David was good, because July is fast approaching. I've got most of the notes but we'll need to do it in the same room a few times, I'm sure. Oh, and accidentally agreeing with Jessica about my pretty face - I couldn't hear her. Bo was a little tipsier than I was (not much, I think we were both pretty sober), and after he professed his love for almost all the ladies (and a few of the men) in the house, we finally got on our way home.
I am going to miss those people and that show. There will ll be other shows, I know, and I'll see all of them again, but still... shows end. It's bittersweet.
Anyway, it's 5 a.m. and I left that piece of paper in the car, but it doesn't matter because if I looked at it now I wouldn't be able to read it, as I left my glasses on the bedside table and am typing this by touch.
After dropping off Bo last night, I remembered why I don't drink champagne (I had one small glass, in fact, small is too big of a word, it was a tiny amount, less than you would gargle, if it had been, say, Listerine) - I had a terrible headache. I drove off with more Corrosion of Conformity (I'm obsessed, a little) blaring (I think the song was "Doublewide" for those of you keeping track), and if you've been in Bo's neighborhood, you know that worse things than COC have been heard at midnight on that street. It helped with the headache, believe it or not. I came home, Patrick was still awake, and we talked a bit about our separate nights, and then we went to sleep. I slept until about 4:15.
I've been up since then, knowing that at 5 my alarm would go off and I would need to get up and wake up and take a shower and get ready for work, but you know what?
I still have that headache.
So instead, I am going to finish this, go back to bed, and when I wake up, hopefully much later, start getting ready for our trip, which means: laundry, cleaning up for Bo the catsitter (these cats love him like he loves his friends at City Garage), and walking to the library, and possibly, Souplantation.
Typing without seeing (the forgotten Jamiroquai album) is harder than you'd think so I'm going to do the number 1 item on that to-do list.
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