In which there is a wet but happy ending.

I have had the worst week ever. I won't go into detail, but you know that scene in Old Yeller where Travis has to shoot Yeller, and everyone in the room, including houseplants, bawls until their eyes look (and feel) like fireballs and everyone has serious thoughts the rest of the day? My week was like that. Except worse. And I was the dog. By yesterday I was kind of wishing I could start foaming at the mouth so maybe Travis would come and put me out of my misery, or at least maybe give me his overalls, because those suckers are bound to come back in eventually.
After the week I had the very last thing I wanted to do was have rehearsal. I drove to Greensboro last night, and the thought of driving exhausted after teaching all day and practicing was pretty discouraging. But I did not want to cancel either, since we only have a month until the competition.
*Side note: When I looked at the calendar and realized there was only one month left, I may or may not have felt the intense need for a shot of something 180 proof. Or maybe seven shots.)
So I went to practice and decided to do whatever I could to make it as easy on me as possible. So I laid on a sofa on the stage and made them do a line rehearsal, and every time they messed up a line they had to do either pushups or Disney-themed interpretive dance, depending on my whim. We ordered pizza and did some cast bonding, and them worked on the set. We are making cheapo plastic shelves from wal-mart look like lovely antique wooden cabinets. No, for real.
And then it started to rain.
There is something magical about playing in the rain with people you love. Combine that magic with the utter lack of inhibition my kids possess, and you have the perfect cure for a terrible week. I stood in the rain, freezing and sobbing uncontrollably, and suddenly all was right with the world again.