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12 May I have worked it out, it's waking up half and hour before the alarm that makes all the difference. If the alarm rings at 10a and I hit snooze a few times, then slump around getting breakfast and going to the supermarket before work, all of a sudden it's 11.20a and I haven't left the house yet and I still have to find my library books and it's all rush rush rush. If I wake up at 9.30a and do the exact same slumping around and getting breakfast and watching Ellen, but then I leave calmly at 11.10a and swan into work ten minutes early. I mean, most people would have figured out by now that having an extra hour before work in the morning makes all the difference, but it's not just that, it's the difference between hopping out of bed all bright like a bunny before the alarm rings and barely dragging myself out of bed after hitting snooze three times. And I went to sleep at 2.30a last night, so it's not about getting to bed earlier, it's about not going back to sleep after I get up to pee.
One of the things that I did with my masses of time this morning was put on my blue jeans. This does not sound like an activity that fills the time, but I assure you, it is and it does. I got my blue jeans when I got my black jeans that are now a mere hole surrounded by a small amount of denim, but I never wore them, what with my wearing my black jeans every single day (I might stop wondering why I wear them out so quickly). The reason that I have not worn them is because they are slightly too small, and I bought them that way on purpose, because when they fit perfectly when new, they are falling off me when broken in. Denim stretches, you see. I had such a 20 minute struggle putting on the black jeans for the first time that I have been avoiding putting on the blue jeans, especially since I believe that I have gained a million or two pounds since January, since I have basically been putting anything into my cakehole that I damn well feel like. This morning, I decided to give it a shot. Not bad, actually--it only took five or ten minutes to get them buttoned, and they seem to fit identically to the black ones when new, which means that I weigh about the same. I cannot leave the house wearing them until I stretch them out a bit, however, what with the belly shelf that cannot be seen in public. I'm Irish, certainly in build, with a big belly and a flat ass (thanks for the body type, Dad!), and when you put on tight jeans that make your stomach flat, the rest of the belly fat needs somewhere to go, which means that either your feet go up six sizes or it shelfs out over the waistband. And one cannot appear in public with a belly shelf when it's too warm to wear a big sweater to cover it. So instead of going home and putting on comfortable clothes, I'll be going home and putting on the tight jeans until they stretch out enough that I can leave the house without frightening small children.
So, yesterday I had to return some library books and pick up some more library books, which meant that I had to find all of my books to return or they would give me the fish eye at the library and not want to give me all of my reserves. I was looking and looking for one book that I finished ages ago and had last seen in my room, so I moved the pile of clothes around, then I looked through the pile on my desk, then I looked through the piles on the floor, then I thought, "I really need to clean up this apartment." I have a week off from Love Creek at the end of the month, though I'll probably be in rehearsal by then (remind me to tell you about my new show), and I might pop over to Philly to see Melissa (will I, Melissa?), but I should be able to get a bit of cleaning done as well. I know that you've heard it before, but I'm not making a sweeping statement about how it will be neat and I will turn over a new leaf and all will be sparkling, all I'm saying is that I'd like it to be marginally less horrible. I think that marginally less horrible is an achievable goal. And right before leaving the house I found the book, along with a few others, on the bookshelf right above the bookshelf with all of the other library books on it.
Spent the day finishing up The Directors and The Polysyllabic Spree so that I could return those as well. Boy do I love The Polysyllabic Spree. It's a collection of columns about books that Nick Hornsby wrote for Believer Magazine (which I'd love to subscribe to now, but $30 a year is a trifle steep), and it not only makes me want to read half the books he talks about, but all of his books as well. I've never read any of his books, though I love the movies of High Fidelity and About a Boy and both Fever Pitches, so I don't know why it never occurred to me to read the source material, but there you are. Anyway, highly recommended.
After work, I went to the library and returned and checked out, and learned again that if you return a bunch of paperbacks, you are almost certain to take out a bunch of hardcovers, especially if you have to carry the load of them around for hours on end. Because I had time to kill before Arms and the Man, I wandered about shopping, apparently because I needed more to carry. I managed to lose my anti-frizz decoction without it leaving my bathroom (marginally less horrible, remember), so went to the Body Shop and got some more of that and some small shampoos and some almond hand cream and deep conditioner that hopefully will take the place of my late, lamented Henna Hair Wax. Then I went back to the Buttercup Bake Shop and got a chocolate/chocolate, a lemon/lemon and a vanilla/vanilla. Because the level of cupcake in my bloodstream is getting low. After that, there was a supermarket next door, and I had time to kill still, so I went in and had a look round for things that I always look for, like Chicken and Dumplings soup, and was lucky enough to find huge tubs of cupcake decorations! 10.5 ounces of jimmies for $2 instead of 1.75 ounces for $1.59! I'm telling you, these concessions certainly feed into my compulsive shopping impulses. I spent $11 on sprinkles and jimmies and little candy animals and coloured sugars, but it will last for months, so I can justify it. Cheaper in the long run!
Then I went to see Kirsten in Arms and the Man. She was playing the male lead. Afterwards I said to her, "The last time I saw this show, Kevin Kline played your role!" a sentence I doubt I'll ever have cause to say again. Yes, Kirsten played the chocolate soldier. The conceit of the play was not that she was playing a man, but that the soldier was a woman and nobody noticed. As it was explained in the programme, every character is playing a part, pretending to be someone they are not, and nobody ever calls them on it, so why not go farther? It helps that Kirsten has a deep voice and a small chest and is tomboyish, she doesn't have to quell her naturally girly tendencies, because she hasn't got any, but she didn't seem dykey, either. For me, it worked. My attitude towards concepts generally is, "I accept everything unless in execution you prove to me that it sucks" rather than many people's attitudes, "Prove to me this concept doesn't suck and I'll accept it." I was there with Jackie and Paul and Gregg David, and I don't think it worked for all of them, but even without that, the acting was good all around, not just Kirsten. The guy playing the fiance I especially liked. He played so over-the-top heroic that it was hilarious, then it started getting to be a bit much, and then in the scene with the maid, he dropped it all and played all gently, so we understood that it wasn't the actor playing that part, but the character, and it worked.
So, I'm seeing Mark tonight, and my hair is not only filthy dirty, but my long grey roots are extremely long and grey, I'm puffed up like a puffer fish because I'm on my period, and I have a zit on my chin! I am a triple-threat of sexiness! Watch out, Mark!
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