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Temporary insanity

June 12, 2018

Oh, lord, yesterday I completely (albeit temporarily) lost my mind.

We had a fairly good rehearsal on Sunday, although clearly I still had a lot of work to do on my lines. That was my plan for yesterday: work on my lines. Work on them for as long as it took to get through the script without having to peek.

So, I got up, had a shower, took my cappuccino back to bed, scribbled a few lines in my journal, used my tablet to check my emails, have a quick look at Facebook and do my French homework. Okay, that was out of the way. Time to look at my script.

Except I didn’t look at my script. I decided that, before I started working on my lines, I’d just have one (oh, ha bloody ha) game of spider solitaire. That was just before 11am. I didn’t force myself to stop until 6pm. Seven hours. No food. No drink. Just clicking on Start A New Game over and over and over and over again. Jeez.

Too late for breakfast, too late for lunch, so straight to dinner. Watch television. Watch the same news on four different channels – mostly Trump and Kim in Singapore. (Final score: Trump – zero, Kim – everything he wanted. Yet Trump’s base will be screaming “Nobel Peace Prize!”)

At 11pm I thought, okay, go to bed, read for a bit, go to sleep, write today off and get to work tomorrow. Good plan. Except some evil self-sabotaging voice in my head said no, have  another game of Stupid Fucking Spider Solitaire. And, crazy me, I listened to that voice. Of course it wasn’t just one game. Finally went to bed at 2am, where I read for an hour. Then I turned the light off.

Then and only then did my brain start working on my lines. I started going through  the entire bloody play in my head. And of course I couldn’t remember any of my speeches. Argh. I have no idea what time I finally shut my brain down and got to sleep. I’d set the alarm for 11am. After hitting the snooze button who knows how many times, finally opened my eyes at 1pm.

And here we are. Okay, momentary madness. Time for lunch and some work on my lines. This will not be the first stop on a downward spiral. I will not consult the cabala. I will not call the psychic hotline. (Don’t worry, if you think this paragraph proves I’m still round the bend. These are some of my lines in the play.)

Before I write yesterday off completely, I did have an ear-to-ear grin minute watching this.

Fuck Trump.

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From → Black dog diary

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