Feathers, Feathers Everywhere!

So, I thought getting fake tar off the stage was a pain in the ass.

Add feathers to the mix? Sweet Jesus.

As soon as I'd thought I'd gotten all the tar last night, I'd try to pick up a wad of feathers and find a squishy puddle of tar underneath.

I tried sweeping them, but I believe a shopvac to hoover them all up is a stroke of genius. The loose ones anyway.

Of course, I can bitch and moan about the tar and the barf and the blood and the pee all I want, but Lisa is the one who has to drive home every night with tar and feathers oozing down her neck.

I told her I thought we should both get combat pay for this show. She actually apologized for dripping tar on the floor... She's so sweet.

One more dress rehearsal, one preview tomorrow, and then we'll be open and I'll only have to mop it up three nights a week instead of every night.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put a call into Bissell.