Schmotel

Arrived at the hotel. Must have been the odd one out or something, because I managed to get a room all to myself. And what a room -- Jesus, 66 channels and free wireless. That's better than I get at my apartment.

My performing space is respectable, as well -- far from the stack of books I was dreading, it's actually quite spacious. Put up a few posters in areas recommended by the Festival director and got back to my car just in time to keep it from being towed. Seriously, the guy had it hooked up and was in the process of loading it into his truck. Major suckage.

I have a number of other things to take care of before opening the show tomorrow night, but I'm not going to. My reason is this: when we opened our first show, I set a strict deadline for myself -- everything would be done two days before the performance, no matter what. My logic was that I would then be able to kick back and relax, spend the day refining whatever still needed to be worked on.

What actually happened is I got everything done early, kicked back -- and realized I had nothing to do but sit around and anticipate the opening. Forty-eight hours of raw panic ensued. I have since learned to leave a few select items to the last minute, to give myself something to worry about other than the performance.

My panicking for *that* doesn't get to start until I hit the stage.