Marat/Sade ends this week; no more madness. No more letting my tics and twitches out. No more terrorizing the audience. No more dressing-room esprit de corps. Soon I'll have to find something else to do, like get a job. I'm working on it, like everybody else. I even got a typewriter so I can fill out applications without revealing my hillbilly scrawl.
Our cat is basically an indoor cat now, having twice returned from his outdoor jaunts with injuries, but we let him out last Saturday and he came running back, scared of something... and then was lethargic. Wouldn't eat or drink. Sat by his water bowl staring, not drinking. We took him to the vet, got him some anti-nausea drugs, and he's in good shape now. For a while I assumed that he'd been poisoned (we'd been warned that some country folks think nothing of poisoning cats) and I was close to exploding with rage, but Laurie pointed out that the cat came running back in a frenzy, as if he'd been shooed away from something, so possibly the only human involvement was beneficial rather than malicious. At first I wanted to assume a villain so there'd be someone to punish, but now I'd rather assume that there was no malice behind whatever threw him off balance. Of course it might be human negligence to blame; leaving rat poison or something out where other critters might get it.
So I've learned a bit about how much the cat means to me (I was pretty frantic for several days) and about how quickly my big dumb urges to wrath and revenge come bubbling up, non-violent milquetoaste that I am.
Speaking of which, I have started watching an old show called The Sopranos. It's pretty good and you should check it out. You heard it here first.
Also, I'm reading a book titled Pride and Prejudice. It to is worth a look. Keep reading my blog and I'll keep pointing out such overlooked gems for your consideration.