Wandelprobe is over—and without a single inappropriate giggle from anyone who said it out loud. So we count that as a win.

Oh—and our orchestra is freaking AWESOME. This show is an absolute vocal-gymnastics pleasure to sing, especially now that we’ve finally layered in our small army of instrumentalists.

And thanks to the geographic witchcraftery of the theater, I just took a selfie that’s simultaneously in the Tottenham Court tenement AND Henry Higggins’ study at wherever the hell 27-A Wimpole Street is. Life upon the wicked stage is NOT for the logical.

Tomorrow is our billion-hour tech rehearsal. And then the full-time magic begins. Just you wait ...

New grey-blue countertops bring with them the responsibility to buy a handsomely coordinated enameled blue caulk gun

But let’s not kid ourselves: I’m telling you this only so I can say caulk gun on my blog.

Six minutes to curtain!

I'm waiting backstage on a couch shoved under a rack of costumes wearing my pinstripe suit and paisley ascot. Which I'm calling a dickey. Because this a comedy.