Three days after strike, and I am still moping around the empty house.
Strike always depresses me to no end. You spend countless hours designing, building, creating costumes, characters, finding props, set dressing.... doing it all. Rehearsals, fittings, finding time on stage, last minute, and I mean last minute changes to the sets and things the actors had to fit into their blocking... opening nights that rocked, a season that was spectacular... standing ovations on a regular basis for one show.
Then, strike... and in a whir of motion, props are inventoried and put away, costumes marked for cleaning, photos taken, the whine of screw guns ripping apart the sets and in 24 hours... everything is packed up and put away.
Clean stage. Clean dressing rooms. Clean build area. It's as if we were never there...and I'm always sad about it all.
Sophie tries to make me feel better by playing "Let's eat your hand!", a game she finds far more interesting than I do. She also plays, "Lie on your chest when you are reading." and "Sit on your forearms while you are typing on the laptop.". Still, she comes when I call, and is very tidy... I can't ask for more (except for a halt to the eating my hand). The bad thing about a cat is, you can't walk it... I walk alone, and it's hot and I don't like heat and I don't want to garden and waaahhhh.
So, yeah, that's it, The Letdown after theater season. I'm settled into my big room, my huge closet is nicely organised, pictures are on my wall, I've had a nice time with a sleep over when Golfwidow stopped in on her way to Vegas to live, and I'm ready to have something new occur.
I'd like it to happen, oh, now? Until then, I've a trip coming up to see Peter and Prince and my brother, and that should be fun. Still, I want something to happen... I feel it in my bones, and I so hate waiting.
Now, now would be nice.