I spent most of yesterday re-running cables under all the seating risers.

"You know this is unnecessary," I tell my boss.

"Do it anyway."

"Every other theatre has cables crossing actor entrances."

"Do it anyway."

"You're being anal retentive."

"Yep. Do it anyway."

"It's going to add an hour onto my work."

"I know. Do it anyway."

"This is kind of OCD."

"Do it anyway."

"Alright, you're the boss."

So I did it anyway. It meant I spent the morning on my hands and knees, rethinking cable patterns and running the appropriate cables.

But now everything works, exactly how she wanted it.

The snow drop is up and black (though I cheated and just wrapped it in black gaff instead of painting it). It's loaded with snow and patched into it's own dimmer.

I worked off some of my rage breaking down the oil drum. It looked 'too new', so I took a hammer and a crow bar to it (I couldn't find the sledge, or I would have used that).

Then I scraped the hell out of it with a wire brush, and painted on some rust. I think it will pass.

We got done in time for me to spend half an hour in the big craft fair around the corner before Gareth picked me up for archery.

I stopped in the saloon next door to pick up some take-out. As I was sitting there, I got chatting with the bartender.

He's a cutey-petootey. I don't think he knows that, though. But he's exactly the type I go for.

He lured me over to the bar talking about archery, and then giving me a day-glo blue drink called a 'Blue Monday'. It was delicious.

We flirted until he found out I was nine years younger than him.

BAH!

I like boys older!

Shut-up your mouth, boy, and DO ME!

*pant pant pant*

Alright. Enough of that. I have to go to cue-to-cue.

.

Rosie.

Before&After