The level of “tired” I’m at today was immediately registered by everyone in The Brothel, as I shuffled in.
WHS Pimp: I like your hair.
Me: I woke up, I put on clothes, I came here. And I look like it.
…Further grumbles compounded as Boss saw fit to bring up Politics before coffee, Corporate fired out more ASAP contract crap to fulfill, and one of the Contractor’s dogs made a present of a dead mouse by my bathroom door.
This is my life, on a Wednesday.
…By noon, the WHS Pimp had disposed of the mouse, and brought in Coke n’ pizza; the Corporate crap was done, and I could sit for a few minutes and just breathe a little bit.
We are two days to Opening, and half way through the week.
Took off Friday, because I’m not an idiot. So at least sleep will soon be in order, by that point…and a bunch of the us’s are goin’ to the noon-fifty “Skyfall” as a sort of glorified Senior Ditch Day. So it’ll go something like: Bed, PJ day, Shower, Bond, Nap, Prep, Show, Party til dawn.
…For which I am already exhausted ahead of time.
Grumpy times. Even the Coke isn’t helping much.
I need to resist the temptation to socialize after rehearsal until then.
…It sucks, but it is the only thing that’ll get me through Thursday:10:30 PM. That’s the goal…where my eyes need to be. I need to make it to that one hill, and then I’ll be able to rest up and have the kinda Opening I’ve worked so hard for…the kind I want to have, instead of some zombie-fied version of it.
Dearest Team Vegas,
I love you, but I gotta hit the down-low for a bit. Remember me fondly.
Signed,
A Very Tired Mistress M.
~D
