I don’t have a car. Billy has a car. A very nice Volvo. As you all know, I am a receptionist by day. Recently I have become a theatre director by night. (That makes it sound very romantic, but actually it’s pretty mundane. The college I work at needed a director for one of their fourth quarter shows and I am a person with directing experience so there we are.) A problem arises when one is working two jobs. One can become Fatigued. I know about this Fatigue because I’ve experienced it before and I was trying to avoid it with this particular rehearsal process. So I asked Billy if he would be okay with me taking his car to work for the six week rehearsal period so that I don’t get stuck on the MBTA until the wee hours of the morning every freaking day of the week. He agreed without the slightest protestation. And then, one week into the rehearsal process, the power steering on the car got all fucked up (as it is wont to do) and I got all freaked out. Billy, frightened by my freak out, contacted his father who Knows About Cars. He suggested we bring the car to his guys in Foxboro. Fine. Good. Let’s get this shit fixed. Billy got up extra early this morning (with a cold) to take the car down to Foxboro. His dad gave him a ride back to Boston. And now, suddenly, the car is fixed! Billy can pick it up in Foxboro tomorrow! Billy’s dad can drive him to Foxboro to get it tomorrow morning! Hooray! Oh but wait. He has to stay with his parents tonight for that to work. Let me remind you of my fragile state. The Fatigue is on the horizon. I fell asleep on a couch during my lunch break today. Pretty much the only thing keeping me going was the fact that it’s Friday and I can see Billy tonight, perhaps for longer than ten minutes before one or both of us passes out. Then Billy told me that he’d be staying with his parents tonight and that I would have to take the MBTA home from rehearsal and then sleep by myself and then wake up by myself and go to rehearsal on Saturday and I pretty much lost it. Tried really hard to stifle my emotional outburst at my desk and played it off as a sneeze. How could he do this to me? I would have to spend an evening by myself? UNHEARD OF. I know it’s irrational but I am hanging by a thread. I demanded that Billy come up with a new plan so he talked his parents into waiting for me to be done with rehearsal before they went home so that I could come with them. Because I am an insane, selfish baby. Everything is about me and if I don’t get my way I cry until I do. Not my proudest moment.
I would probably, under normal circumstances, edit this post so that I don’t look quite so pathetic, but frankly the Fatigue is setting in and I have to go to rehearsal in seven minutes anyway so it’s staying the way it is.
me me me me me.