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Ldy, the lemony, ligerish ducttaparian's Magic Treehouse of Lost Thoughts
A classy broad's life... with footnotes.
ldy
So I was miserable all day yesterday. I had so much on my mind... I suppose the stress of everything had just gotten to me.

I talked w/ P about it for awhile, and while it was good to get a couple things off my chest, it didn't really solve anything. I got off the phone feeling nauseous, and promptly ran upstairs and got sick.

It was after 3 pm, and I hadn't eaten all day. Truth is, I had no appetite whatsoever. But knowing that I had a show later that evening and would need the energy, I fixed myself up a bowl of cereal. It didn't appeal. Two bites later, and I just couldn't eat anymore.

I went to lie down for awhile. I didn't set the alarm, and knew that I had to get up for the show, so I didn't really sleep deeply or anything. But I dozed. I got up with half an hour before I had to leave for the show. I was beginning to feel rather better.

I brushed my teeth, looked up and AAAAAAAGHGHGHGH! Despite my best efforts, half my hair was sticking straight up. Eville bedhead! So I showered again.

And felt nauseous again.

And began to get an awful headache.

But I got my act together as best I could and drove to the show. And that's when I realized what, precisely, was wrong.

Tail-lights shone with the intensity of a thousand suns. My engine sounded like a freight train. My vision was doing acrobatics; something which should never, ever, happen to someone behind the wheel of a car.

I had developed a full-blown migraine.

This is quite a rarity in my world, thank heavens. Maybe once or twice a year I'll mistakenly eat some MSG or something (I'm dreadfully allergic) and get a migraine from that. Usually I know what I've eaten within minutes of ingesting it, and be able to rid myself of it before too much damage is done.

But a migraine caused by something else? One that can't in any way be traced back to MSG? Very rare. Maybe once every two or three years I'll get hit with one of those.

I have never, ever, had one this bad.

I had to keep going. As they say, The Show Must Go On.

But I fervently wished that it wouldn't.

I finally got to the theater. Two actors were there already, shouting at the tops of their lungs. Or perhaps they were speaking normally. It was impossible for me to tell. I excused my sorry self and collapsed on the upstairs couch.

I could hear traffic three blocks away. I could smell things in that dirty old couch that were probably ground-in ten years past-- things I had (thankfully) never smelled before The low lighting in the room was bright enough to shine through my eyelids and pierce my very brain-- a brain which was evidently, by the feel of it, being eaten by angry gremlins from the inside out.

If it weren't for the gremlins, I could have made a keen superhero. Hark it is I, SuperSenso! Brain-eating and stomach-eating gremlins, however, are too great of disability to account for such weak powers, I think.

But, anyway, as I was saying, The Show Must Go On. So I did my makeup (fat lot of help that was!) and dressed.

I was actually looking forward to doing the show at this point. You see, when I'm onstage, nothing else matters. The Recordkeeper, old Fezziwig, Scrooge's nephew Fred-- heck, even the spirits of the damned didn't have a problem with migraines. Acting would provide brief respite from the evils currently plaguing my body. However, the thought of what might happen during the periods of time I would be offstage, in the wings, frightened me.

I did my best to ignore the world as I lay on the couch. I drank some seltzer and ate a bite of a banana-- and found myself in the bathroom again, staring at the toilet. Then I returned to the couch.

It was showtime. Ovahchah! Curtain! Lights! This is it! We'll hit the heights! And, oh, what heights we'll hit! On with the show, this is WAIT.

Fearless Leader appeared and got everybody's attention, including mine.

"Well, strange as it might sound, only three people showed. What do we want to do?"

This couldn't be true. Three people?

I mumbled something about doing the show if we had to, but that I'd obviously be pretty grateful if we didn't.

And I wished with all my heart that I were elsewhere.

Everybody talked. I didn't pay attention to much of it, as one wouldn't usually pay attention to five people screaming loudly in a room lit by a small supernova. But I remember something about someone talking to the "audience," and asking if they wouldn't mind seeing it another night.

Ultimately, they were OK with that. And ultimately, we cancelled.

We'd cancelled an improv show once before, but a full-blown production? Never.

Sad that we had such a pathetic showing, but somehow wonderful as well.

I drove home as carefully as I could, stared at my computer screen for all of fifteen minutes, got violently ill, and collapsed into bed.

And I was finally embraced by sweet sleep.


First I ground planes by the force of sheer will. Now I cancel shows.

I wonder, if I set my mind to it, if I can move that blizzard that threatens to strand us in Saratoga tonight... ;)

I'm feeling all kinds of: drinking coffee and eating an english muffin, and loving every second of it
What I hear: laptop laptopping

19 tall tales or Tell me a story
ldy
I was really hoping I wouldn't have to drive to Saratoga in the snow, and then I was hoping, instead, that we wouldn't have the storm.


It suddenly started snowing like crazy just before noon, and by 2pm we'd gotten a couple inches, with more on the way.

The supermarket was doing a very brisk business.

By 3pm, they had cancelled the show in Saratoga.


And yet now, at 9:45pm, the storm seems to have quieted down quite a bit, and the two-to-three feet they'd sworn were coming may very well turn out to be all of six inches when all is said and done.

Old man winter-- just like a man ;)

I'm joking, I'm joking.

Anywho, I'm thinking about shoveling some snow right now, just so I don't have a lot of work ahead of me in the morning.


Oh, and I wish for a new car. Eh, scratch that. Even if I do have some weird sort of mojo going on, wishing for a new car only means that the old one will break down and I'll be forced to buy another.

I sure wouldn't mind winning the lottery on Wednesday, though.

I'm feeling all kinds of: I wish, I wish, I wish I were a fish
What I hear: Heh. You are what you eat-- & I just had supermarket sushi

3 tall tales or Tell me a story
ldy
I never use this icon. But I will use it for YOU, Mister Northeastern Storm Front! :D

Ugh. Nearly six inches on the ground, and heavy as hell.1

I did the bare minimum for the sidewalk,2 the bare minimum around the car3 and cleared the driveway4 and the walk.

I think I pulled a muscle near my ribcage. We won't talk about my upper back.5

Tomorrow morning will be fun fun FUN! :D

*dies*

Hm. I wonder if there's somewhere I could move to that wouldn't have all this snow6...

Hugs to those who need 'em, those who want 'em, and those who can lift my arms up for me.

1 I don't actually presume to know the weight of hell,7 I only know that it's heavy. And dark.
2 "One shovel's width"
3 I can get in (I think) and the tires are mostly clearish.
4 We have alternate side of the street parking. Last storm, I was annoyed because all the cars were on the other side, and I had to shovel through what the plow left in my driveway. Today, all the cars are on my side, and I discovered how good I had it last storm. This time, I had to shovel half the street as well.
5 I lied. Let's talk about my upper back. I do one character in the play with my shoulders hunched up by my neck, and-- surprise!-- I evidently hold my tension there during migraines, too. I think the overall straps on my bib snowpants were rather too tight as well. Eeeeyeeeach.
6 P & Z said they didn't know, but that they'd try to figure something out ;)
7 Oh.
£ It's been awhile since I've posted an entry that was more footnotes than entry, hasn't it! :)

I'm feeling all kinds of: James Brownian Motion
What I hear: David Arkenstone - Storm Cry

12 tall tales or Tell me a story