Hell Doth Freeze Over

Day 2

And I don't mean in the sense that good things happened. Well, OK, not all bad things happened.

We awoke this morning to a cold apartment and gray skies. After realizing that at our Wegman's trip last night we didn't purchase anything to cook eggs with, and our apartment did not come with no-stick cookware, I couldn't make eggs. This proved to be an omen. After a breakfast of toast and cottage cheese, J and I went on another shopping trip. This time for the basics--paper towels, dish soap, decongestant, nasal spray, bourbon. You know, the usuals.

Between the time we woke up and the time we skidded out of the parking lot of our apartment into oncoming traffic, it had snowed 3 inches and no trucks had been out yet with salt or sand. Needless to say, my poor car Gertie had no traction as she is a convertable.

From Henceforth, the theater shall be called MCPA (short for Mallet Center for the Performing Arts). The name is derived from J's nickname for the PM, when she said, he's just a tool...and not a sharp one...and her friend K responded with, "Is he a MALLET?"

Meanwhile, the truck with the set is still, sadly, somewhere outside NYC.

We get to MCPA, and I take J on a tour of the pit of despair (which i "Lovingly" call the storage space at this theater) and we decide there must be something dead because we have to cover our faces in that way reporters do when entering a house full of crap.

After 2 hours of itchy eyes and snifflies, we ended up having a production meeting, for the first time in 10 weeks, that was moderately productive...though we also learned that no one had purchased/acquired hand props. And we actually, still, haven't decided on a theater to have the show in next week. And there's no lighting equipment.

But P, poor poor P, our 24 year old truck driver/carpenter, is only about 2 hours away, they say.

"Only in the dictionary does success come before work. " In the green room/fitting room/all purpose room/one of 2 warm rooms at the MCPA, there is a sign made by a child with fingerpaint palmprints all around it stating this. "Only in the dictionary does success come before work". But in the immortal words of the lighting designer, LD, "Yes, and it also only comes after Budget. Or Money. or Cash."

I think finally that they are going to throw us some more money for the show, but it won't stop the pain. J is trying to nap on the couch. She's got a sinus headache...which she fears won't go away because of the mental and existential pain that is being inflicted on us by the MCPA. I sit here, after missing lunch and eating 8 hours after breakfast (and you all know how I hate to miss lunch) wondering if money WILL actually fix anything. Tonight, I may be chomping down on delicious gluten free pretzel sticks, but tomorrow, will Mallet, the Great Bullshitter, come to our defense? Will there be a set to tech on? Will there be a theater to perform in? Tomorrow, will I be loading costumes into a warehouse or will I be, sitting here again, with a knot in my tummy and a lump in my throat, wondering if Saturday will bring us such sweet pain. Tomorrow, I know, J will be driving to another theater with the enemy, who is nice but still, the enemy...and will she come out alive? Stay tuned folks, stay tuned!