5:35: I get home from work and bring in the mail. Sitting down on my bed, the day catches up with me and I slowly slump over. Just a minute to rest my head, maybe, before I take on the evening.
6:55: I open my eyes. Crap. I snag a handful of snacks to clear my head and then start writing. Tonight feels really productive, but Word tells me I only added 1860 words to my total. Tuesday I felt like I was struggling but ended 2050 words up. In fairness, though, most of those two thousand and fifty words weren’t that great. A lot of “then”s and “were”s.
8:05: Writing done, I walk to Inman Square to help ImprovBoston move out. We have to empty the entire theater, even if it means carrying trash with us to the new space to dispose of it there. I help brute force IB’s legendary foldout couch from the basement up to the top floor. I also help Bobby’s fiancee Claire dispose of the two absolutely filthy rugs from the basement, which cough up blinding clouds of dust every time they’re folded over, moved, touched or looked at for too long. There’s some minor confusion as to what’s going and what’s being thrown out, and of course because we’re improvisers the typical workload is “move something fifty feet, crack jokes until people pay attention to you, repeat process.” But the last load gets out the door at about quarter after ten, when I take my leave.
10:30: I pass crossing the street from the Asgard. “It’s packed tonight,” he says. “Lots of hipsters. Guys with hats.” I understand exactly what he means once I’m in the door: guys with ill-fitting jackets and fedoras, skinny girls with thick glasses and leggings. Asgard’s become A Scene. Fortunately, they’re all talented singers, so I don’t mind listening to them cover “Patience” or Meredith Brooks or “Sweet Caroline.” I won’t tell you what I sang; let’s just say you couldn’t call it a comeback.
11:50: After chatting up Greg W., Pete F., John S., and , I make my exit. (Note: , , and others were also there; I just didn’t get to talk to them as much. Alas! Alack!).
2:40: My dreams involve keeping a girl who’s on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew hidden from the ambassador to England (who happens to be one of the HR generalists at the Company). We run up and down a lot of stairs; the ambassador delivers a lot of angry voice mails to her case worker. I also find a secret 8th floor in a building on Boston College’s campus which I’d never seen before. This floor had a huge bar and grill with very low prices and a Barnes and Noble.