That Was Pretty Good... For a Sunday

Sundays are hard. On Sunday, your body hurts. On Sunday, your mind checks out early (if it checks in at all). On Sunday, you just don't wanna.

Sundays are particularly difficult because we do a matinee. When I wake up Sunday morning, I can really feel that my body has had less than 24 hours to recuperate. In fact, by the time I get up Sunday morning, it's time to get ready for the show.

What happens is this: I wake up, stumble out of bed, do my hair, go do my pre-set, eat, do my make-up, go warm up and do the show.

Seriously.

Moreover, the audience is full of kids. This can either be great, or a pain in the ass. There are times when small children provide incredible energy with their unhindered laughter. They can also be chatty, obnoxious and distracting.

Ah, Sundays!

Plus, half the troupe heads home right after the show. I mean right after the show. I'm pretty sure that if they could, there are certain people who would skip the curtain call* and just get the hell out of Dodge.

But the most frustrating thing about Sundays is the general attitude among the troupe, myself included. Since its mostly kids and the elderly, not to mention the last show of the week, there's kind of a tendency to let the ball drop a little bit. I'm not terribly proud to admit it, but I have actually shouted "weekend!" after my act. There's a solid hour of show left after my act...

If the show went well, the reaction is "well, that was pretty good. For a Sunday." If it didn't go too well, we all seem to accept it with a shrug of the shoulders and a "it was a Sunday." And while that shouldn't be okay, and wouldn't be any other day of the week, we all kind of accept it.

After all, it's a Sunday.




* Since writing this, I have learned that an artist once did skip the curtain call... Bad form.