timeripple | What do I do with a love that won't sit still?

Well, I’m back home at The Garret at last, and me all lit up from an impromptu night on the town. Four words: “sex farce” and “free tickets”.

Today was the last picturebook class, finally. It was Fake Caldecott Day. Mostly I sat around and cackled at other people's impassioned arguments and wished I'd brought popcorn. One of my classmates announced that there were free tickets for The Miracle at Naples because they needed people to fill in seats. I heard the words “free” and “sex farce” and immediately volunteered. The benefits of a single life, my friends. Everybody else had Significant Others or pets to get home to or classes to prepare for, but me, I had no plans other than ramen and Nobuta wo Produce. Walking into the theatre after a mad cab ride through fan-clogged Fenway, I realized that I’d been there before-- I’m pretty sure it was the same place

cadragongirl's Shakespeare class went to see Othello that time I gate-crashed the expedition.

The play wasn’t exactly a masterpiece of profundity, but I'd had nothing to eat all afternoon except M&Ms and cookies. So it was pretty funny, and I quite enjoyed it and refused to be shocked by the language. I mean to say, there’s pretty much only one way a farce can go with an opening line in which the pretty young heroine proclaims, “I’M SICK AND TIRED OF BEING A VIRGIN”.
...

I forgot to mention that last Saturday I was saved from a dull and unproductive day at the library by the news that the Fiddleheads were having their end-of-the-year concert that afternoon. RR and S rescued me by heavily implying that they would like me to go with them. I abandoned my pointless writing assignment, jumped on the T, and stood around glamorously in front of Anna’s Taqueria waiting for them to pick me up. To my great delight T was also in the car. We stopped at Whole Foods to buy flowers and fiddlehead ferns (apparently they’re edible. Who knew?).

We walked around a bit, tried out the chapel’s new chairs (I knew better than to suggest a trip to my beloved, hideous science center), made it back to the campus center in time for the concert. We embarrassed the seniors by leaping up after the last set and bestowing purple roses and fiddlehead ferns upon them. They invited us to join their dinner party, which we did with much glee. Somebody brought cups. Somebody brought a fiddle. Somebody else remembered how to play Catharsis. I sat back, ate my lentil soup and sauteed ferns, and smiled benignly.