Rehab LXXXIV: then they asked what we're on

[phoenix_moth]

 Today was the first performance of the play. We had kids from my old elementary school. Well, one of them. It went pretty okay, a bunch of forgetting lines and screwed-up music cues but other than that it ran smoothly, and as usual Nahja (I can't remember whether the H or the J comes first) gave us a show. I flitted around in a pair of white wings setting up the floor and sweeping the stage, fetching props and costume bits and things. Christina was supposed to be there too but apparently when she was at practice last night she stepped on a nail and had to go to the ER and whatever. People asked me all day long how she was and I kept shrugging; how should I know how she is? I guess I must have looked like a rather inconsiderate friend, but if I had to justify not really caring I'd tell you the story of the time I called her on the phone and asked her to come over because I'd gone and overdosed again and she never came because she was with Mark. So. Let's pretend I was getting my revenge, because the real reason is a lot less colorful: I really didn't care. She'll be back eventually and I highly doubt it was serious since she didn't call me to bitch about it.

I wonder if it means anything that every time I wander into the prop room the only thing I come out with is a pair of wings on my back.
It's always a pair of wings.
Am I trying to fly?