So, yesterday was the first full day back in New York as well as being the first day back at work.

I wish I was the kind of person to plan a decompression day into their vacation and come home on Saturday so that I'd have Sunday to relax and unkink and get used to the idea of my life again, but no, I always vacation until the last possible second and then hit the ground running.

Such strange dreams my first night back in my own bed, not to mention the fact that I kept waking up all night long. It didn't feel like such an interrupted night, I got up without too much difficulty, but I spent the night floating to the surface over and over again, and every time there was Baldrick, staring into my eyes as if to say, "You're not leaving again soon, right? You're really back, aren't you? Hello?"

It was really nice to be on a futon again, though. I am so spoiled after so many years on one that I just can't get quite comfortable on a regular mattress. Trust me, people, if you have any back problems at all, switch to a futon, you will never go back. And I mean a good futon, a double-stuffed on, the thin ones get flat but the thick ones never do. And get a better frame than mine, that's for sure, since my frame has been propped up on milk crates for the past five years, but this does not negate the fact that the futon itself is a gift from God.

I could do without this damn snow, though. If it was a decent storm, the kind where they send you home from work early, that would be one thing, but this constant dribbling down with no sticking, just a general dampness, is just appalling. I spent all day at work telling people, "On Saturday I was having lunch with Bart Tangredi while wearing a t-shirt and sandals because it was almost 80°!" but I really wasn't getting any sympathy from these people who had been through two major storms since I was gone.

Dreary, dreary, grey snow.

You know how I said the other day that I wasn't doing resolutions this year, beyond my goal of getting pregnant?

Well, I do have a resolution after all, not to stay at work all goddamn night without getting paid for it. I had my overtime cut off but I kept working it anyway, just without compensation, like the asshole that I am. No more!

Of course, last night I stopped working on time but sat there for another hour and a half anyway. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I got Cynthia to send me the script to Boys in the Backroom, since the director still hasn't called me and officially cast me, and I want to see the rewrite.

Wow. The role is smaller than I remembered, which makes it even harder. The show is all about me, it's like that story about the guy playing the tiny role of the doctor at the end of Streetcar Named Desire saying, when asked what the show was about he said, "It's a show about a doctor?" Well, this is a show about a girl who gets raped.

It's nine lines and two pages at the top of the show, and if I don't get it right, there is no show. None. If I blow it, they might as well turn to the audience and tell them to go home.

Nine lines and two pages and I have to punt that show, or there is no show. If I drop the ball, there is no show, because the entire show is about the event that occurs before the show starts, and if I don't sell it, then they aren't reacting to anything that anyone will care about.

Holy shit. This may be the hardest role I have ever done.

Today's horoscope:
If you can afford to relax, this is the perfect time. The parade is passing directly outside your window. Trying to ignore everybody else's fun all but guarantees that you won't have any of your own.

One year ago today:
Spent another day barely moving anything but my eyes and my mouse hand, and stayed in my jammies all day, getting back into them after I hosed myself off to remove the top layer of filth.

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Last Updated Wed 15 January 00:01:09 2003