It can't all be gravy
It's not often that you wake up in one city, perform in a second, and go to sleep in a third in the span of sixteen hours but today is one of those days, and this weekend will be one of those weekends. Long hours spent in transit, a flurry of activity for each show, and barely enough time to force some much-needed sleep in there. Today is our smallest show, playing to a house of three hundred and seventy two in a tiny theatre that is over a hundred years old. The stage is woefully underequipped and the show is going to require much adapting on our part but over time, I've learned to adapt to pretty much any space.
I woke today in a large Canadian city, forcing my eyes open and lamenting the seemingly accelerated passage of time as I wrapped myself in the blankets of another hotel bed. I wanted nothing more than to stay there and cocoon, existing in just one morning not rushed by alarms, departing vehicles, or hotel breakfasts. As soon as the clock hit fifteen minutes past eight, I finally faced the fact that today would be at least an eighteen hour day, braced myself and dredged my tired body out of the warm bed into the frigid air. Moments later my phone started ringing and the day was afoot.
Our schedule eases up after the weekend though, and it would seem I will have some time to concentrate on blogging, booking next summer and fall, and catching up on some restorative rest that will hopefully banish these dark rims that seem to have engraved themselves into the lower half of my eyes. I tried to do a little conditioning this afternoon because I know it's going to be hard to get the motivation to do it later when we finally arrive at the next hotel, which I'm certain will be past midnight, plus I have to drive the last haul to get there. Ten minutes until the first show, and the aroma of heavily salted popcorn permeates my nostrils.
Many hours later, I sit now in a shabby Motel 6 with mere hours until the sun rears its head beckoning a new day. Even Nikki can't stand how deflated I am at the prospect of the forthcoming work days, and my phone clicks into silence. I now know that eighteen hours was an optimal estimate. After conditioning, the count will be sitting just over nineteen. It's quiet in my room and the white CFL bulbs in the room cast that harsh, life-draining glow. I gaze into the mirror and the face staring back at me looks dead.
Today was not a good day.
I woke today in a large Canadian city, forcing my eyes open and lamenting the seemingly accelerated passage of time as I wrapped myself in the blankets of another hotel bed. I wanted nothing more than to stay there and cocoon, existing in just one morning not rushed by alarms, departing vehicles, or hotel breakfasts. As soon as the clock hit fifteen minutes past eight, I finally faced the fact that today would be at least an eighteen hour day, braced myself and dredged my tired body out of the warm bed into the frigid air. Moments later my phone started ringing and the day was afoot.
Our schedule eases up after the weekend though, and it would seem I will have some time to concentrate on blogging, booking next summer and fall, and catching up on some restorative rest that will hopefully banish these dark rims that seem to have engraved themselves into the lower half of my eyes. I tried to do a little conditioning this afternoon because I know it's going to be hard to get the motivation to do it later when we finally arrive at the next hotel, which I'm certain will be past midnight, plus I have to drive the last haul to get there. Ten minutes until the first show, and the aroma of heavily salted popcorn permeates my nostrils.
Many hours later, I sit now in a shabby Motel 6 with mere hours until the sun rears its head beckoning a new day. Even Nikki can't stand how deflated I am at the prospect of the forthcoming work days, and my phone clicks into silence. I now know that eighteen hours was an optimal estimate. After conditioning, the count will be sitting just over nineteen. It's quiet in my room and the white CFL bulbs in the room cast that harsh, life-draining glow. I gaze into the mirror and the face staring back at me looks dead.
Today was not a good day.