March 11, 2014

Not used to having colds: have one now. Thinking of the blind efficiency of the head as a snot-making machine. Waking hours ruled by Nyquil.

Delivered the cedar chest finally out to Phoenix Cove, and repented of my bitterness about the whole thing when I saw her true condition. Women who go on about the ease of living without men probably don’t live in the country. She had us carry great blocks of salt and lower them into a chute, to amend something called “iron water.” I’d never heard of that before. Much sacrifice for a beautiful vista.

I’m interpreting not getting any notes at rehearsal as a sign that I’m getting the character right, though it may be that I’m just beyond help. The director is good. Much silliness on the set, which wastes time but which has, I suppose, other value.

Crashed into bed, emerged from the covers slowly, reluctantly, a whining schoolboy with no school.