All this time

I'm at my friend Liz's flat in Essex.  After an excruciatingly long week of rehearsals, I'm here to escape the city and to watch all of the Harry Potter movies back to back and eat fajitas and drink tea and sleep late and stay in my pyjamas for two days.  I ventured out of my bedroom to grab a banana and noticed that she's already printed out the Yankees season calendar.  This is the beauty of getting to know old friends again.  Liz and I got to know each other working on a show in Exeter nearly seven years ago.  There was lots of drinking and cavorting and merry-making and curry-eating, as well as an alarming amount of clubbing for yours truly.  And now, here we are, seven years later.  She's super-stoked that I'm singing at the ENO, and I'm just so tickled that she loves baseball.  Even if she is a Yankees fan.

I'm also catching up on my American TV shows.  Who knew that Grey's would take such a dark turn??  I'm trying to relax, drinking lots of water, and telling myself that I've got a full week to get over this cough that keeps waking me up and disturbing my otherwise undisturbed sleep.  I've got a full week to drink throat tender tea and get some of that crazy New Zealand honey that's supposed to cure all ills and take my vitamins and not do a lot of talking.  I have a full week.  And as my friend Jamie says, Mucinex is made of angel tears and I intend to get myself some TODAY.  Because we open a week from today.  And there will be 2500 seats with people sitting in them, and I'm gonna give it to them.  Nothing but net.  

I'm scared.