2012-09-03 - 9:43 a.m.

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Can't believe it's quarter to ten. I was going to get up early, shower, dress, sit down, and make myself crank it out until I had sides pulled for "Hot L." But I woke around 5:30 sweating badly from meds or too much to drink or whatever and immediately starting panicking about money again.

Which is silly, at least to some degree, because yesterday I got the first good financial news I've had in a while: Laura wrote to say my amended tax return reduces my 2011 bill by over 1200 dollars. The original bill of eight grand is now closer to six grand, which sounds a whole hell of a lot more manageable and less scary. Bless Laura, who has worked really hard to make this work.

In spite of the early-morning anxiety, I continue to improve and feel more and more like myself. I'm not assuming that everything is hunky-dory for good, but I'll take this over what I was living through from early July through the middle of August.

What I had been living through, in fact, off and on, for the past three years. Which when I think about it is scary as hell.

Yesterday was good and productive but exhausting.

Went to campus and probably over did it. Walked a half hour or more on the upstairs track, then got on a treadmill. Played the J-W playlist on the iPod and managed 16 minutes of jogging, starting slow at 4.8 mph but moving up to 5.3 by the end of "Totally Fucked" and even a little 5.5 with "When Doves Cry." Then alternated walking and jogging, even running (some 5.7 with "Does Your Mother Know" and some 6.0 with "The Bitch is Back," which is probably where I pushed too hard and too fast and too long). I'd logged 5K in about 39 minutes last week; my time to 5K yesterday was 36.49. 12-minute miles: not bad.

Foot was sore later. Still is a bit today. Don't think I set myself way back, just have to stay careful.

And moving the body feels good, dammit.

Came home to find Matt on a tear. We'd vaguely discussed what straightening up or real cleaning we'd do with company coming last night, and once he got going he saw cobwebs in the corners and visible layers of dust on the tables and windowsills and baseboards, and he got going with Murphy's Oil Soap and once he'd started he figured he should keep going.

And he did. By late afternoon we'd scrubbed the bathrooms, done several loads of laundry, dusted, cleaned all the baseboards and moldings, vacuumed, put spot remover on the various stains in the carpet. First real cleaning, I'm ashamed to say, that has happened since I was injured in April. But doing so much yesterday will save time in three weeks when the Klipps and Chris Nichols are due.

I tried to do some cooking ahead of time, and sauteed onions and garlic in butter and olive oil for the shrimp and pasta. I tasted the mixture, though, when the onions were soft and there was a very faint but inescapable off flavor. I trusted my instincts and I dumped the whole thing out. Went back out to the grocery stores and started over again from scratch.

The upshot was that we worked so hard preparing for company that we were physically exhausted, our bodies were worn out, and the last thing we wanted was company.

But. We had a wonderful evening. Gwendolyn and Michael arrived bearing wine and fresh homemade salsa and I'd made a big batch of World Cup Cup and we talked and laughed (mostly about school and students, unfortunately, something I'd vowed not to do, but hey, we're professors). Shrimp broiled in garlic-lime butter over linguine, then a good salad, then dark chocolate for dessert. The evening flew: I'd hoped for an early night but we were just finishing when I went to the kitchen and saw the clock: 10:35. Well after 11 when they went home. We were satisfied and happy.

Fell asleep easily but slept uneasily. Four bottles of wine among four people'll do that, but hell, it was worth it.

Two minutes before 10 now on Labor Day. Gotta box up the coffeemaker so it can be shipped for repair tomorrow, and gotta pull those god damn motherfucking sides. Make it happen, flood.

In the course of the evening received texts from Matt Ebling and David D in response to my "have a great closing" notes. Matt wrote sweetly that "I wouldn't be here without you," and David wrote that it was was one of the most memorable nights of theatre of his life. "Thunderous response. On-their-feet applause at Richard's death, then againat Richmond's crowning. So much so that Richmond couldn't speak for a while and I had time not only to approach the dead bodies but stroke the dead Matt's cheek. And then all the ovations. A fitting closing." Then, in an e-mail: "Thank you for sending us Matt. What a tremendous response tonight. Huge. A magical night. One of my theatrical high points of life, the moments of Richard's death and thereafter. Amazing."

I'm so happy for him. And I sure as hell wish I could have seen the production.

So fun to think of my best friend ever working with a 22-year-old I taught just a few years ago. Two people from almost entirely different chapters of my life acting together in Shakespeare in New York. What's not to love about that?

Two minutes after ten now, must shower and get my ass in gear.

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Riley's diary reads "Trying not to get my hopes up." I have a feeling that's about the dance class he wants to take. I so want to be able to make this happen, but I don't have the $$. If I could get them to let me pay half now and half after the 15th, I could do this. I suppose I should call them myself...

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ebb - flow

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