Not my problem

The "little" show I took on was beginning to make me sick. After working on the costumes all weekend (in addition to staying late at work most of last week to pattern) it felt like I had made incredibly little headway. A two and a half our trip through the theatre's attic storage treated me to a nasty fiberglass rash that lingered for days. And no word from my assistant after she missed that lovely little venture due to an illness...lucky duck.

Last night I got maybe an hour of sleep, the thought of the show had me so wound up. So this morning was the final "no." I hated doing it...so far into the process. But I feel like I've been treading water the entire process...a process starting back in November.

I dreaded answering the phone all day. I felt guilty for backing down; relieved to be done; frustrated at not standing strong sooner; belittled at the director's lack of respect for me or my time; and angry at the producing theatre for not keeping a closer eye on the entire process.

But a terse email from the director evaporated all those negative feelings. Granted they evaporated in a flaming rage...but a rage that flared and quickly smoldered to the toasty feeling, perhaps slightly self-righteous, that I made the best choice for me. The email only reinforced many of the obstacles I'd already run into, and made me glad to think I don't have to encounter them in the coming weeks.

Of course, the icy cold keeps the hot-headed-ness at bay. Minnehaha is beautiful when it's frozen...


by comparison...a few months earlier...