So that mistake I was so worried about? The one that was someone else's fault but that I was certain I would get blamed for?

Well, when The Raccoon came in yesterday, I ran into her cube and told her all about it. When I was done, she looked at me and said, "God, I thought that you were going to tell me something important!" so all of that fretting was for nothing.

In the middle of the day, her daughter got sick, so she had to go pick her up from school, which meant I was left in change. And I was great! I was brilliant and efficient and the assistant controller asked me to do several things and quickly and deftly these things were done, and though I am sorry that R's daughter was vomiting everywhere in sight, I was glad to have the opportunity to prove that I can step up when required to.

And then it was opening night.

I was walking down the street on my way to the theatre, singing "A Little Respect" as I am wont to do, and suddenly I knew that Omar was behind me. Not right behind me, about ten feet behind me. I could feel someone was there and I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if that were Omar?" and about twenty seconds later he put his hand on my arm.

The funny thing was that I didn't think to tell him that I had known he was there until about fifteen minutes later, it just seemed so unsurprising. I knew he was there and he was there. It reminded me of when I was directing Orpheus, and Cynthia's character had to fell, without turning, that Omar's character was in the room. "You feel him in the air," I told her. It was like that.

The show was...off. Just a little off.

My bit was fine, felt fine, was fine, but the rest of the show...the energy was so low, the pauses were so long. It was a show about depressed people rather than about tense people. Instead of being all chewing their own arms off with the anxiety of having done this awful thing and waiting to see whether the police would arrive, they were very floppy and sad and whining, "O no, we just raped Marilyn, what'd we do that for?"

It was a small house, which did not help. Most of the house belonged to Sam, and since I hang out doing my prep behind the flat rather than in the dressing room, I was in a perfect position to hear Sam's wife welcome every single person who came in and then tell them all about the plot. No surprised for them! Except for the bit she got wrong, which was that she told them that Sam played the good guy, that he didn't rape anyone.

This show, of course, has no good guys, so I laughed to myself and thought that at least that group would get one big shock, that sweet-faced Sam who looks like Opie Taylor was as flawed a character as everyone else on that stage. Also, a rapist.

I lost my nose ring. Dammit.

Today's horoscope:
You know that you're doing something right when adversaries start to praise you. Your initial success unlocks a hidden inner force. Interns and apprentices are ready for the next step.

One year ago today:
Why bother trying to look pretty, it's be like putting makeup on a hippo, a big waste of time!

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