5 days till #Hallowmeme!

LITANY OF DEMANDS

1. Laundered socks will reunite on their own like Cary Grant and Debra Kerr in An Affair to Remember but sooner and with no off-screen auto accidents or racist music recitals.
2. Smoke alarms with dying batteries will not chirp so randomly that you can’t figure out which ones need rebatterying but will instead shout HEY! OVER HERE! THIS ONE! MARCO ... MARCO ... MARCO ... POLO! YOU FOUND ME! NOW REPLACE MY BATTERY!
3. I will finally master the “bowler brim” verse of “Put On Your Sunday Clothes.”

Why I’ve done nothing more than fold laundry very slowly on the couch all night:

No dishes. No dusting. No vacuuming. No bedroom cleanup. Just hours of YouTube archives of brilliantly funny, delightfully indignant, sexily British, total-current-crush John Oliver.

Treasures I uncovered today in my storage unit, part two:

• My collection of tourist-trap figurines from my world travels that I figured I’d never find again among the bajillion unopened boxes I have yet to spelunk BUT I DID
• The glazed ceramic Eiffel Tower ring stand/change dish I have no business owning because I don’t wear rings or carry change but it’s charming and Francophiley and I love it so shut up
• A red Chicago Marathon cowbell that all the spectators jangled along the race route to keep us fired up or at least running in fear from all the crazy people jangling cowbells at us
• National Treasure, the American Da Vinci Code and my gateway drug to swooning over all things Justin Bartha
• MY HELLA COOL A CHORUS LINE BOOK
• Three stray unmatched socks I thought might possibly pair up with the pile of lonely, forlorn unmatched socks I’ve been holding onto for years just in case their prodigal other halves eventually showed up ... AND TWO OF THEM DID!

What’s gayer:

that tonight I folded all my hoodies in (generally) the same size and stacked them to be put away for summer in the order of the rainbow, that I actually own hoodies in every color of the rainbow, or that I did it all while watching Fosse/Verdon?

Ugh

Good night!

How to be a theater person:

1. Repeatedly check your score and sing along with the cast recording to memorize your music for a show as you fold and put away three weeks of unfolded laundry.
2. Have three weeks of unfolded laundry because you’ve been in another show.
3. Stumble on your souvenir tearaway thong and souvenir backup tearaway thong from said previous show as you’re folding all that (clean! I swear!) laundry.
4. Instead of figuring out where the hell to put your souvenir tearaway thong and souvenir backup tearaway thong (DAMNIT, AUTOCORRECT! Not once in the last four tries have I intended to type thing!), artfully arrange them with the score of your new show on a bed of unmatched socks to post them dramatically but tastefully on Facebook.
5. Panic that you’ve already forgotten all the music you’ve reviewed and learned as you’ve folded and put away. Because your mind is clearly too busy trying to figure out where to put your souvenir things.

In times like these, it’s comforting to know we have a forum where we can find solidarity, courage and strength in our shared struggles

Done and hung and ready for fun!

Things I’ve accomplished today:

• Had my first formal voice lesson in 30 years, and already determined some bad habits I can start working on unlearning
• Went to Target and bought only what was on my list
• Did my first leg workout since I started running last spring ... and freaking KILLED my legs without sacrificing proper form
• Accepted a very romantic marriage proposal from one of my 934 freakishly hunky gym crushes as all the rest of the guys in the gym struggled to mask their jealousy through forced smiles and wan applause*
• Attended a Full Monty line bash where I remembered more of my lines than I’d expected
• Sat down and actually played the piano for the first time in months as an overture (for lack of a less obvious metaphor) to my New Year’s resolution to practice with specific regularity
• Made it to my 11th day without having Diet Coke
• Wrote a blog post that doesn’t use the word “boobies”
• Oops
• Didn’t kill anyone intentionally
• Did some laundry without expecting a gold star on my chores chart
• Boobies
• Oops again

* This one is a total fucking lie

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MYSELF!

I’m tired of sucking at ironing no matter how hard I try and of never having a decently ironed shirt when I need one so I’m taking EVERY DRESS SHIRT I OWN PLUS SOME CASUALISH ONES BECAUSE SOMETIMES THOSE ARE MORE APPROPRIATE FOR CERTAIN OCCASIONS and paying to have the entire pile cleaned and medium-starched AND I’LL BE THE SHARPEST LOOKING MAN AT YOUR NEXT FORMAL OR SEMI-FORMAL EVENT.

But please don’t invite me anywhere nice in the next few days because every shirt I own will be at the cleaner’s. Literally.

6 days until #Hallowmeme!

Really, dryer? Eighteen unmatched socks? REALLY?

I was gonna GET STUFF DONE today after our mega-hella run

So far I’ve showered and fed Bitch Kitty and started the dishwasher and put my week’s worth of gross running clothes in the wash ... and now I think I’m gonna get a nap done.

Please use your inside voices.

Do I look like Grumpy or do I just look grumpy from stubborn constipation?

Either way, it’s my first unscheduled evening since Fuddy Meers ramped up to high gear and I can’t shake my exhaustion and my whatever-the-hell-is-wrong-with-my-hip running pain is only slightly better and my laundry hasn’t magically folded itself so I’m scrunching up my face and going to bed early.

You gotta know when to fold 'em

When you’ve been busy with a show for a few months and you have too damn many clothes so it really doesn’t matter that you hate folding laundry and matching socks and making sure all your T-shirts end up the same size so they’re easier to put away.

There’s a fully extended recliner buried under there somewhere.

And probably some stray underpants on top for you to giggle at.

I’m finally getting caught up on weeks of unfolded laundry and WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM, SOCK-EATING DRYER?

Urp.

My sheets are clean, my bills are paid and I’m on the slippery, headachey slope of an epic sugar crash wrought by zero self-control in the face of those awesome-o malted-milk Easter eggs with the crisp candy shells. But I just took a halfway decent selfie so the night’s ending on a high note. Sleep well!

You know how sometimes when you’re lounging on the unfolded-laundry side of the bed taking helicopter selfies when you should be sleeping?

Me neither.