mush for brains
I am really tired. Mentally and physically. The events of the last 10 days or whatever have just left my brain completely dmngvoai, ya know?
The real problem was that I never knew what the hell was going on when. I like routine. I like that everything in my life has its place. The tea kettle lives there. The toilet seat lid stays down. If I have to be somewhere at a certain time, I leave x minutes earlier to get there.
I'm more than willing to change things on the fly or to make a spontaneous decision. I was a stage manager once upon a time, after all, and very few of my shows had finished scripts or even a fully constructed venue. Sometimes not even by Opening Night.
But I had to deal with two brothers in town who were also visiting other friends and girlfriends, and all of those people had radically different agendas than the one I thought we were supposed to have. Every day began with leaving messages on cell phones: "What's happening today?" Every day ended with leaving messages on cell phones: "What's happening tomorrow?" Every answer was the same: "Beats me."
Did I mention my mother was in town, too? Luckily, she stayed at a hotel (in Midtown), so I didn't have to find out she was sleeping on my couch that night that morning.
And, oh yeah, there's my life, too, such as it is.
I spent New Year's Eve falling asleep on the couch. My dog woke me up at midnight when the firecrackers scared the shit out of her.
My one and only New Year's Resolution: Next NYE, get kissed by a human female. It may very well be too much to ask, especially if I have to go through all this again.
Getting to the game Monday night was annoying as hell. Younger Brother Kevin had spent the night at my place Sunday night (I found out that mid-morning), letting himself in with a key I left out back after explaining how to get in the back gate because I couldn't be there because I had a date already planned and didn't know how long I'd be out. We had a late lunch at Ria's. Mom called. She left some clothes in her hotel room in Midtown and could I pick them up? Kevin had a train to catch at 8:00 pm. Game started at 8:00 pm. I tried to leave at 5:45, but was delayed until after 6:00. Swung by the hotel on Peachtree on the way to the Amtrak station only to have to wait forever because the only housekeeper on duty didn't have access to the Lost and Found room and had to get the GM to let her in. At least everything was there, plus a book Mom forgot about. Got to Amtrak by 6:30, but we could tell there was trouble before even pulling in. There was a line of cars threading out of the station and down the road; the half-dozen or so parking spaces were full. So I parked in the lot illegally anyway. Stood in line as the incompetent clerks tried to help even more incompetent passengers buy tickets and check baggage (some in cardboard boxes). The train was running at least two and a half hours late, but they couldn't be sure. Kevin got a number to call to find out and he headed across the street to Borders as I left.*
Now it was 7:00. I hauled ass to the Capitol parking lot and caught MARTA at the Ga State station, arriving at the Dome stop by 7:30. And spent the next 20 minutes on the phone trying to find Kid Brother Ian, who, it happened, was on the exact opposite side of the Dome, one level up. Outside.
And then I relaxed … just in time for the game, which was quite beyond ridiculous.
After getting home at 2:00 am Monday night/Tuesday morning after the Sugar Bowl, I went to work yesterday. And then my last night of trivia at Fox & Hounds, which was quiet. I was practically incoherent. I have no idea what I was saying. One regular team bought me a beer, another wanted to know who to lobby to get me to come back in the spring, which was nice. I don't plan on going back there; I'm sick of smelling like an ashtray every Tuesday night.
I think I have a date tonight. I left a message for her last night and said my brain was mush, so I left it to her to come up with something to do. I haven't heard back yet. And I'm too tired and confused to wonder if it Means Something.**
Tomorrow night is my last night at Raging Burrito. And then a college friend comes in to town for a week. Luckily, she's staying at NPJ&B's place, and she's pretty much Nikki's responsibility. I think we're going out Saturday night. I think.
Monday the Session begins and my life pretty much ends until the Session is over in late March/mid-April. And on Monday night I have my last trivia show at Twain's until April.
Maybe I can sleep in next Saturday.
* Turns out the train was indeed 2:30 late, arriving in DC about 3:00 late.
** ETA: Just as I posted, she called me up. We'll be at Eddie's Attic tonight.
The real problem was that I never knew what the hell was going on when. I like routine. I like that everything in my life has its place. The tea kettle lives there. The toilet seat lid stays down. If I have to be somewhere at a certain time, I leave x minutes earlier to get there.
I'm more than willing to change things on the fly or to make a spontaneous decision. I was a stage manager once upon a time, after all, and very few of my shows had finished scripts or even a fully constructed venue. Sometimes not even by Opening Night.
But I had to deal with two brothers in town who were also visiting other friends and girlfriends, and all of those people had radically different agendas than the one I thought we were supposed to have. Every day began with leaving messages on cell phones: "What's happening today?" Every day ended with leaving messages on cell phones: "What's happening tomorrow?" Every answer was the same: "Beats me."
Did I mention my mother was in town, too? Luckily, she stayed at a hotel (in Midtown), so I didn't have to find out she was sleeping on my couch that night that morning.
And, oh yeah, there's my life, too, such as it is.
I spent New Year's Eve falling asleep on the couch. My dog woke me up at midnight when the firecrackers scared the shit out of her.
My one and only New Year's Resolution: Next NYE, get kissed by a human female. It may very well be too much to ask, especially if I have to go through all this again.
Getting to the game Monday night was annoying as hell. Younger Brother Kevin had spent the night at my place Sunday night (I found out that mid-morning), letting himself in with a key I left out back after explaining how to get in the back gate because I couldn't be there because I had a date already planned and didn't know how long I'd be out. We had a late lunch at Ria's. Mom called. She left some clothes in her hotel room in Midtown and could I pick them up? Kevin had a train to catch at 8:00 pm. Game started at 8:00 pm. I tried to leave at 5:45, but was delayed until after 6:00. Swung by the hotel on Peachtree on the way to the Amtrak station only to have to wait forever because the only housekeeper on duty didn't have access to the Lost and Found room and had to get the GM to let her in. At least everything was there, plus a book Mom forgot about. Got to Amtrak by 6:30, but we could tell there was trouble before even pulling in. There was a line of cars threading out of the station and down the road; the half-dozen or so parking spaces were full. So I parked in the lot illegally anyway. Stood in line as the incompetent clerks tried to help even more incompetent passengers buy tickets and check baggage (some in cardboard boxes). The train was running at least two and a half hours late, but they couldn't be sure. Kevin got a number to call to find out and he headed across the street to Borders as I left.*
Now it was 7:00. I hauled ass to the Capitol parking lot and caught MARTA at the Ga State station, arriving at the Dome stop by 7:30. And spent the next 20 minutes on the phone trying to find Kid Brother Ian, who, it happened, was on the exact opposite side of the Dome, one level up. Outside.
And then I relaxed … just in time for the game, which was quite beyond ridiculous.
After getting home at 2:00 am Monday night/Tuesday morning after the Sugar Bowl, I went to work yesterday. And then my last night of trivia at Fox & Hounds, which was quiet. I was practically incoherent. I have no idea what I was saying. One regular team bought me a beer, another wanted to know who to lobby to get me to come back in the spring, which was nice. I don't plan on going back there; I'm sick of smelling like an ashtray every Tuesday night.
I think I have a date tonight. I left a message for her last night and said my brain was mush, so I left it to her to come up with something to do. I haven't heard back yet. And I'm too tired and confused to wonder if it Means Something.**
Tomorrow night is my last night at Raging Burrito. And then a college friend comes in to town for a week. Luckily, she's staying at NPJ&B's place, and she's pretty much Nikki's responsibility. I think we're going out Saturday night. I think.
Monday the Session begins and my life pretty much ends until the Session is over in late March/mid-April. And on Monday night I have my last trivia show at Twain's until April.
Maybe I can sleep in next Saturday.
* Turns out the train was indeed 2:30 late, arriving in DC about 3:00 late.
** ETA: Just as I posted, she called me up. We'll be at Eddie's Attic tonight.