I got sucked into a wormhole

I feel like I'm living in some sort of strange slightly-parallel universe, where I may or may not have left Boston in the first place, but I live in Steve and ML's spare room, sew all day on a ridiculously low table, and subsist entirely on Coke, LaVerde's sandwiches, and dark-side M&Ms. The Athena machines taunt me because I can't login and check my mail like I used to be able to, so I get Internet in the morning and evening and hope real people stop by the office during the day so I don't go stir-crazy until rehearsal, and okay maybe the Tommy soundtrack wasn't the best thing to listen to today. There's a cardboard mountain of costumes in a corner of the office that needs to be organized but I can't get out to get a garment rack until Thursday and not to mention the lists I need to make and the costumes I need to try on people, and I have to remember to pull all the stuff we're not building and would it be weird if Kristin-as-Dodonna wore a skirt instead of pants? I think a cargo skirt would be super-cool except for the us-not-having-one factor.

By all rights I should be in bed zonked out since I woke up at 7:30 am in anticipation of the Ebay auction that didn't end for another four hours, which was a little bit like Christmas morning except there was also intense dread and terror. But I can't sleep and I'm wide awake, and I wonder, is Steve still up so he can print out a copy of the costume plot? I haven't even called my mother because every time I think of it she's either at work or asleep. (Hi Mom, I love you, I'll leave you a message tomorrow, okay?)

Also I can't stop worrying, what if we do the show and nobody comes? Worse, what if people come but they hate it? What if I start cracking up onstage? What if I forget a lyric in front of three thousand people? (What if I forget a lyric in front of thirty people in a room that could hold three thousand?) What if by the end of the trip we all hate each other?

What I really need is to go to sleep. But as you can see that's not really working out for me. And really I shouldn't even be complaining because it's not like I have REAL things to deal with, like oh say having a BABY in the next two days while still working on Modal Node heads (yes I'm looking at you wendyhouse!)

I got sucked into a wormhole

I feel like I'm living in some sort of strange slightly-parallel universe, where I may or may not have left Boston in the first place, but I live in Steve and ML's spare room, sew all day on a ridiculously low table, and subsist entirely on Coke, LaVerde's sandwiches, and dark-side M&Ms. The Athena machines taunt me because I can't login and check my mail like I used to be able to, so I get Internet in the morning and evening and hope real people stop by the office during the day so I don't go stir-crazy until rehearsal, and okay maybe the Tommy soundtrack wasn't the best thing to listen to today. There's a cardboard mountain of costumes in a corner of the office that needs to be organized but I can't get out to get a garment rack until Thursday and not to mention the lists I need to make and the costumes I need to try on people, and I have to remember to pull all the stuff we're not building and would it be weird if Kristin-as-Dodonna wore a skirt instead of pants? I think a cargo skirt would be super-cool except for the us-not-having-one factor.

By all rights I should be in bed zonked out since I woke up at 7:30 am in anticipation of the Ebay auction that didn't end for another four hours, which was a little bit like Christmas morning except there was also intense dread and terror. But I can't sleep and I'm wide awake, and I wonder, is Steve still up so he can print out a copy of the costume plot? I haven't even called my mother because every time I think of it she's either at work or asleep. (Hi Mom, I love you, I'll leave you a message tomorrow, okay?)

Also I can't stop worrying, what if we do the show and nobody comes? Worse, what if people come but they hate it? What if I start cracking up onstage? What if I forget a lyric in front of three thousand people? (What if I forget a lyric in front of thirty people in a room that could hold three thousand?) What if by the end of the trip we all hate each other?

What I really need is to go to sleep. But as you can see that's not really working out for me. And really I shouldn't even be complaining because it's not like I have REAL things to deal with, like oh say having a BABY in the next two days while still working on Modal Node heads (yes I'm looking at you wendyhouse!)