Yup, things are looking up. We finished our three-day run of A Promise to Repair -- all that stress and scheduling for three performances -- and I have no interest in post-mortems or hindsight analysis. I just wanna move on to my summer.
So far, that means rather a lot of packing. But I also did a speedy rewrite of my zombie play (Zom Rom Com), in
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I know what you're angling at, here, but I think it's too complicated to boil down to a gendered division of privileges. And it might be worth adding that this child-free time has not been all fun & games. I've been deeply conflicted about having a rendezvous with my pre-parental self -- guilty and a little bit disgusted with myself, even while I try to revel in the selfishness that used to be my stock in trade. Hence the "desperate" part in "last, desperate gasp."
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