Day twenty-one – Reversal of fortune

God, I wish that title meant that one of the lottery tickets I very occasionally buy turned out to be a winner, but alas no. The subject is still sleep.

Whilst I may have had a problem lately with sleeping too much, my problems have not included getting to sleep. Head on pillow I drift off fairly quickly. Not last night. I’ve been here before. It’s tech week for the panto. And like the tech weeks for the past three pantos, I cannot turn my mind off when my head hits the pillow. So last night I tossed and turned and tossed and turned and tried everything I could do to get my brain to shut the fuck up and let me sleep. I did set the alarm last night to give myself nine hours of sleep. Not twelve, which I could probably have used, but nine, which seemed reasonable. Except I have no idea what time I finally drifted off. The difference this year is that I’m not the bloody director. This (the quality of the show) is not my problem. It’s bad enough having to drive to the other end of the island at night in the rain to get to the Hall eight times this week, but losing sleep over the show? No, that’s just fucking wrong.

The show will go on whether I worry about it or not. Of course I do worry about it. I can’t help it. I worry about whether the cow will fall off the stage. I worry about the fact that this is supposed to be a Star Wars/Jack and the Beanstalk crossover and, instead of having a beanstalk on the stage, there is a bloody bean sprout, which looks completely fucking ridiculous. I worry about what the audience will think of this show after the polish of the past three. But it is not my job to worry.

Perhaps tonight, if I am once again having trouble getting to sleep, instead of counting, I should be singing this in my head.

Perhaps not.