In which our Diva wishes desperately for a teleporter, and exercises firm denial against the suspicion that she is Getting Too Old For This Shit
The line between "challenge to be overcome" and "the Universe is trying to tell me something" is really, really fuzzy sometimes.
Case in point: Over the past several days, I've been exchanging emails with the director of a student film that sounds immensely cool. And I hasten to say the guy has been about as accommodating as anyone could reasonably expect. But on the ramp into tech week for Elisir, it's all too easy for audition times to run into rehearsals I can't afford to miss. Which they have, twice -- the original date, which he rescheduled independently of my conflict, and the rescheduled date tomorrow. When I emailed him asking if I could possibly make any other arrangements due to my conflict tomorrow, he replied that he had an additional session scheduled for this evening.
Which I could, technically, by the edges of my fingernails, maybe make.
If I drive off with the only functional car in the household, leaving the hubby to his own devices to get to our social commitment tonight (from which I would, of course, be playing hooky).
If I log in to Office of Doom tomorrow morning to finish making up the hours from an appointment I had on Tuesday. (And I say that with much kowtowing to the gods of telecommuting, because making up hours is a helluva lot easier when I can do it from my attic.)
And if the obscene quantity of snow between here and the Art Institute is sufficiently off the roads by the time I head out.
Balanced against the fact that the director is a bit overwhelmed by the response he actually got to his audition posting, which is why he's having an additional session in the first place, and, well.
So, um. Challenge? Universe? Which one am I trying to talk myself into? Not quite sure.
The never-say-die voice is saying "Haul your ass into the city by hook or by crook, and deal with the tired and the crazy."
The grownup-with-responsibilities voice is saying "Let it go, there'll be other times, and you have Things You Need To Do. Plus, where do you get off inconveniencing hubby and hosts of social commitment?"
Neither voice is all that appealing at the moment. Which is kind of annoying, considering how often these situations come up.
As long as the voice saying "Screw it, run a hot bubblebath and HIDE!" doesn't win, I think I'm okay. But boy, does it get loud sometimes...