grouch grouch grouch.

1. woke up with a hangover this morning -- not a bad one, but a hangover all the same -- and, more importantly, a relatively complete set of memories of being drunk enough to cry last night.
   
2. directors of iolanthe have offered me a place in the chorus of fairies, which is a big fucking letdown even after i'd tried so hard not to get my hopes up.  i haven't decided yet if i'm going to do it.
   
3. rehearsed for the concert from 3pm until about 6:15, then grabbed some dinner and was back at the theatre in time for the thing to begin at 7:30.  it went until after 9, my friends who were there said they liked it, and i am now both glad and sorry it's over.  (and exhausted.  but not done singing yet for the season.)
   
4. house party a couple of streets away, at which A From Korea drew me aside to reveal and then angst about her persistent crush on Person A Foot Taller Than Myself, which she knows has no future because she fessed up and he let her down gently, and she's all frustrated with herself for not being able to force herself to get over it and move on.  was thrown into a whole thing with the similarity to own cursedly ongoing situation -- substitute self for A From Korea and Smug Bastard for Person A Foot Taller Than Myself, and, you know, same thing all over again.  so, yeah, i had no useful advice to offer.
   
5. am also continuing to have scoldy type conversations with my own superego and id.  fuckers won't listen to me.  rar.
   
6. now Son of a Preacher Man wants me to work at the bar the night before i go home, when i was counting on being a customer and having a good time.
   
7. and i'm heading into Week Three of the hormonal cycle, which is customarily the crankiest for me and the most uncomfortable, and although i've had some of those symptoms this past week due to stress bringing them on early,  i don't figure that means i'm off the hook for this coming week.  plus i'm flying on wednesday, which is just fucking guaranteed to put a fucking smile on my face.

less grouchy today.

not entirely un-grouchy, but much less so.  it is tiresome, though, isn't it?, when you are aware enough of a dream as you're dreaming it to realize what part of your subconscious it's showing you?  like, fucking thanks, i needed that.  rar.

i get tomorrow night off!

i even really like the word 'sing', you know?  a little bit onomatopoetic, there.  just a bit.

tonight was carols and whatnot with the chapel choir, take 2.  a proper treble, the son of a math professor or something, sang the first verse of "once in royal david's city", and in the practice, i tell you what, the kid went flat in about a beat and a half.  when the organ came in after the second verse we were probably close to a whole tone below where we needed to be.  in the performance itself, though, he -- well, he did go a tiny bit flat, but you could tell he was really hanging in there, and when we came in for verse 2 we were, as a choir, grabbing the pitch by our fucking fingernails and wrestling it back up into place.  and the organ came in and we were, as the bach choir conductor would have said, on the smelly side of it -- but that's his way of saying we were on pitch, but only just.  still, 'only just' is in fact there, isn't it, and after that we were accompanied, so that was all right in the end.

and i got to see sebastienne, who was playing the snare drum for our "tomorrow will be my dancing day" (which isn't the setting in 6/8 that's the one everyone knows who knows that song; as soon as i can find a recording of this setting, i will share, i promise [g])!  yay!  and, and, i fixed the snare drum when it wasn't snaring!  double yay!

and then at one point during the service we all smelled something burning, and a few minutes later it turned out to be that the candle behind me had dripped hot wax onto my hair.  i suppose i'm lucky that my head didn't go up in flames.