And that title was meant as an expletive. Honestly, felines are the most annoying (adorable) creatures in the world. There is absolutely nothing better than to settle in one's bed with a good book and a purring cat or, in this case three...until one of the cats (you know who you are, damn it, Blackfoot) decides that the best place to do the purring is directly on one's face. Or someone decides your face needs a very thorough washing (uh, huh, Tarbaby) - or someone decides to fart horrendously (well, Gypsy, I know you're old).
And when two black cats suddenly, after a good six months, suddenly decide that the food you're feeding them is not to their liking. I decided to try Blackfoot and Tarbaby on Alley Cat instead of Meow Mix because, to be blunt, Alley Cat is $2.69 a good sized bag and Meow Mix is $5.79 for the same size. And the bastards (well, they're both ex-boys - can't say bitches) have been eating it perfectly happily - up until this week. They have suddenly decided they aren't so thrilled with it. They make their displeasure known by driving me nuts by climbing on the kitchen table and diving at my food and in general acting like they haven't been fed in a year or two. Since they're still eating the Alley Cat, this is damn silly and I refuse to give in to it. Until, of course, I can afford to go back to Meow Mix because I figure three bucks every three weeks or so is a small price to pay for having my dinner in relative peace and quiet. (Gypsy eats Fancy Feast because, poor old girl, she only has one tooth left in her head and needs soft food - I wouldn't want you to think she was starving!)
And I've had a busy weekend, against all odds. Against all odds because my paycheck for the one day I worked week before last earned me a paycheck of ten bucks and change. This, of course, is because they took out the $118 for my insurance. You read that right...ten bucks. I ran immediately to Prada and bought my entire summer wardrobe...wouldn't you? This coming week, as I worked two whole days, I should get as much as maybe ninety bucks. I'm deeply excited. However, those rebate checks go out as of tomorrow, and according to an article I read, my Social Security number will make mine one of the first to go out. Let us pray...
Oh, about my weekend. I went to an audition on Saturday, at which they seemed to like me quite a bit, which means absolutely nothing...and I'm not at all sure I want to get involved with this thing anyway. It's a dues-paying company, to which I object. Do you know that there are theatre companies out there which charge you as much as a hundred a month to have the privilege of being cast in their shows? Somehow I think that as a dues-paying member of Actors Equity, this is wrong...but the audition clearly stated Equity and non-Equity, and my union affiliation is clearly stated on my resume...well, we shall see. I must say the notion of me as a hash-slinging broad who lives in a trailer park is slightly startling, but what the hell. Toss me the script, I'll play it. Admittedly, it's a bit of a departure from Shakespeare, but if you attempted to type cast me from the roles I've played, you would find yourself in a VERY weird space. Let's see...a Monty Python-esque lecturer, a deranged mother with three personalities, Gertrude in Hamlet, a madam running a massage parlor, Kate in Taming of the Shrew, a repressed lonely spinster, Mistress Ford in Merry Wives of Windsor, a prostitute who kills her johns...yeah. Oh, and 63 who looks 45 to 50 on stage. I'm just a teensy weensy bit hard to categorize. (Theatre whore will do nicely - got a part? I'll do it...)
Then today I went off more or less with my pal Tom Godfrey (another Richard III survivor), to see a show in which a third survivor was appearing (not to mention a couple of other friends of mine) over at Theatre for the New City. I say I more or less went with Tom because he somehow got confused and went to the wrong show (there are always two or three running at TNC). Anyway we caught up with each other and our friend Zen (a wonderful talented man) and had a lovely time.
Joshua is having fits (what else is new) because he tried to offload some of his old clothes onto Mel and she was not noticeably thrilled. Somehow it didn't occur to him that Mel is about my height (I guess she's around 5'4"), and what on earth he thought she was going to do with his stuff is completely beyond me, Joshua being six feet tall...I'm sure Mel will give me the whole story tomorrow.
I can't decide what to do about tomorrow yet - I mean where to set my mind. (There isn't any more room on the bedside table.) I'm trying to figure out whether to plan a lovely day in bed with several books and cats listening to the rain, or whether to set the alarm and get up and take a shower and get everything ready in case they call me for a job. I always think that if I have nice plans for being home, I'll get a call, and if I'm ready to go, I won't...but then again, the weather's going to be lousy, so of course I should logically get a call because nobody else wants to go out...but maybe if I...
Ah, the hell with it. Bed and book. I won't think about it today, I'll think about it tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.
Love, Scarlett O'Hara (otherwise known as Wendy)