So here's the thing. It's almost over. We're on the metaphorical bus ride home. Eyes half closed, rocking slightly, slurring, and all filthy tired. Kitty and I were discussing it today, and it's the kind of tired a single nap, or day off, or trip to the beach won't fix. It's the all-encompassing bone weary of people who have been awakened at least four times in the night by rabbits smashing into the side of their cages, cats tearing across hardwood floors into faces, snoring, farting, people talking to themselves in their sleep, and seagulls trying to get laid by screeching as loudly as they can.
Shows have been sold out over the weekend, though we still aren't finding our crowd. We've got a lot of silver hairs in the Arts shows, and most of them aren't willing to go with the convention of a dirty puppet show. It's too bad, I think Arts is the funnier show, but what you gonna do?
Everyone's good. Everyone's tired. I think we're about ready to come home.
Till lates
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