Promptly following my previous post, I contract chicken pox.
Yes, I'm twenty-goddamed-six.
I have no clue where I picked it up from, aside from those afflicted children I kept eating in the sick ward of that hospital they won't let me near again FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON. Anyway, bada-boom bada-bang, laws of comedy--POX. Last monday my face resembled a topographical map of mars, a week and change later, there's just a few faint marks.
I am utterly thankful, grateful, and blown away by my friends, the cast, and office staff (Not mutually exclusive.) They immediately snapped up an understudy (a man named Dwayne Blackaller--who is one of the coolest people in the galaxy) and plugged away. I got daily text message check-ins, a signed rubber chicken, and even an effing birthday cake. CAH-RAZY!!
So now I'm hitting the ground running a bit. I'll roadie for the show tomorrow and Friday, then we'll have put-in rehearsals Friday afternoon and Sunday--then it's off to eastern Idaho!
Sheez, man.
In other news, I got a new phone, a new age (which I mentioned with expletive-filled gusto), and several new books...most of which I read during my quarantine. Ughff...
I feel refreshed...and ready to commit my body to some grueling, difficult, rewarding work.
Watch out,
Dak
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