Opening night was fabulous.
The next night was more fabulous.
The next afternoon was more fabulous still.
Also, E.S., who came out to Seattle to see the show, has insisted that I recant my last post, because, as he points out, I did not vomit and faint at breakfast; I merely retched and swooned.
The first piece of mail I opened upon my return to New York tonight was a summons to jury duty. I can’t decide whether to do my damnedest to get on the jury so that I can fulfill my long-standing fantasy of participating in jury nullification or whether to retch and swoon so I can just go home instead.