At the end of my shift in about an hour plus, I'll have clocked in over ten hours in the saddle here at the Library. Among many other adventures, now I drive the delivery trucks from branch to branch, like the Buddhist monk in Journey to the West, traveling long miles with a load of holy texts, beating the crap out of mountain demons, evil dragons and stupid people who don't know how to drive.
And without pausing for so much as a cup of coffee, as soon as I'm done here I fly straight into the theatre for yet another rousing night kicking rebel scum around Fuente Ovejuna.
I'm worried about my Grandma, who got out of surgery yesterday and who I still haven't gotten around to seeing yet. I'm worried about my Uncle, dodging suicide bombers in his humvee in Iraq. And my Mom pisses me off to no end these days...
Othello rehearsals start on my birthday, next week. There's talk of Ashland adventures in August. I have no less than 9 pending letters in my kit right now, half-written or waiting for their seals and stamps. NOW IF ONLY SOME OF YOU LOSERS OUT THERE WOULD MAYBE WRITE BACK, I might apply some swiftness there, now wouldn't I?
I think I will risk a small delay, and stop for a cup of coffee en route to the Theatre tonight.