It’s always strange being in someone else’s house alone – but in this case… Deanne’s been sick, heading towards surgery this whole week, so she’s been home from work. It’s alien for her house not to have her manically gleeful presence flitting through it. I think I heard her leave this morning (we’re on our usual 3am-11am sleep schedule) – but by the time I got up, the dogs were just staring at the front door.
A tiny bit of me would like her to get caught up there in Durham until Sunday, so that we can go see her and pet her and be a comfort in a strange place… but the rest of me just hopes she’ll be home as quickly as possible, even if that means missing her in transit.
After exploring the horrid world of hospitals with my Father, I only hope that this one’s nicer, and that her stay is as brief as possible.
It just goes to show, you never DO know what you’re getting into. We’re about to hit the stage at Port City Java, here in Wilmington. And I’ve got this fear that we’re going to play to a disinterested room with a front row of six-year-olds. God, we need to learn to play some kid’s songs. I’m worried about blenders, about food, about the fact that I’d really like to see a familiar face or three – but I know it’s all too easy to just say you’ll try and come, and much easier to just not bother. We’ll see… I don’t usually have pre-show jitters any more, but every once in a while, they catch up with me.
Tonight, I’m jittering.
And let’s not even discuss my testicles… I don’t think I CAN, after all – another stroller just came through the door. Blenders, cell phones, babies – my favourite combination, but not at all combined in my favourite way.
