California: T -7 days

When I came home tonight, the entirety of Portland Actor's Ensemble's Twelfth Night was in my living room. I gave hugs, kissed the tops of heads and made my rounds till I reached someone I relatively just met, who asked, "How was your day?"
The honest answer is: "Awesome. I worked at a day job I love and am lucky to have, ate a dinner I made for myself that was both good for me and tasty and then I went to my night job, which I love more than my day job and now I'm home and a ton of people I like are in my living room."
What I said was: "Um, okay."

My theory is that I said that, and felt that, and meant that because I am tired. Not I-didn't-sleep-enough-last-night-tired but I-need-to-do-something-other-than-work-and-work-related-activities-for-a-period-of-longer-than-twenty-four-hours- tired. Just because I love my work doesn't mean I can't treat it like, well, it's work. Because it is. And if anyone who does not work in theater wants to have a conversation with me about how what I do is solely fun, I will gladly have that conversation... at one in the morning when I'm done working.

The point is: Maria and I and maybe her cast member Danielle and maybe my friend Kailyn are leaving for California in seven days. My excitement levels are already approaching Category 5 winds, so I don't even want to think about how antsy I'll be by the time this baby makes landfall, if you get my drift.
On my drive home tonight I started to plan road trip car snack. SEVEN DAYS TOO EARLY, MURPHY. My brain don't care.
In seven days I will be going 70 mph heading like a bullet for Santa Cruz, California.

Caaaaaaliiiiiifffoooooorrrrnniiiiaaaaaaa, coooooommiiiiinnnnn HOOOOOOOMMMMEEEEEEEEE.

(That, in case you missed it, was my wailing that Phantom Planet song.)