t minus 38 hours and counting
Sunday, 9 April 2006 01:52![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
melayneseahawkWorked my last shift with Event Services, which was the final performance and strike for a British dance troupe called Phoenix Dance Theatre. Didn't get to see any of the performance, because my job was to sit in the hallway and keep the wall falling down (I was supposed to be available "in case of emergencies"), but I got to work with some of the dancers and their tech, and they were all so nice. They kept thanking us, it was so amusing. One of the dancers needed an icepack, and I ran the length of the theatre department to get one, because I run for injuries; I regretted running later, of course, since my ankle is still screaming 5 hours later, but the dancer was just fine. I also learned how the Dance Studio risers collapse, which is a singularly scary process.
Tomorrow I begin packing, by which I mean I clean up the things that I can before the 'rents come on Monday with suitcases. For my own sake, a list:
Moving out is much easier than moving in. It's a lot harder to forget things; you just pack everything.
In other news, and in honor of National Poetry Month, I will be including some of my favorite poems in some of my posts. Probably not every one, but at least once or twice a week. So, to kick it off,
"I Am Growing a Glorious Garden", Jack Prelutsky
I am growing a glorious garden,
Resplendent with trumpets and flutes;
I am pruning euphonium bushes;
I am watering piccolo shoots.
My tubas and tambourines flourish,
Surrounded by saxophone reed;
I am planting trombones and pianos,
And sowing sweet sousaphone seeds.
I have cymbals galore in my garden,
Staid oboes in orderly rows;
There are flowering fifes and violas,
In the glade where the glockenspiel grows.
There are gongs and guitars in abundance;
There are violins high on the vine;
And an arbor of harps by the bower
Where the cellos and clarinets twine.
My bassoons are beginning to blossom,
As zithers and mandolins bloom;
My castanets happily clatter;
My kettledrums merrily boom.
The banjos that branch by the bugles
Play counterpoint with a kazoo;
Come visit my glorious garden,
And hear it play music for you.
Alrighty, back to writing I go.
Tomorrow I begin packing, by which I mean I clean up the things that I can before the 'rents come on Monday with suitcases. For my own sake, a list:
- laundry
- shower
- dishes
- clean desk
- clean top of closet and bag shoes
- organise book crates
- return rest of library books
- tell roommate I'm leaving
- e-mail professors
- e-mail JT about jobs at Round House
- e-mail David about Olney production manager
- strip bed and bag remaining dirty laundry
- take down whiteboard and cork strip
- pack computer
- take out trash
- pack comforter
- pack toiletries
Moving out is much easier than moving in. It's a lot harder to forget things; you just pack everything.
In other news, and in honor of National Poetry Month, I will be including some of my favorite poems in some of my posts. Probably not every one, but at least once or twice a week. So, to kick it off,
"I Am Growing a Glorious Garden", Jack Prelutsky
I am growing a glorious garden,
Resplendent with trumpets and flutes;
I am pruning euphonium bushes;
I am watering piccolo shoots.
My tubas and tambourines flourish,
Surrounded by saxophone reed;
I am planting trombones and pianos,
And sowing sweet sousaphone seeds.
I have cymbals galore in my garden,
Staid oboes in orderly rows;
There are flowering fifes and violas,
In the glade where the glockenspiel grows.
There are gongs and guitars in abundance;
There are violins high on the vine;
And an arbor of harps by the bower
Where the cellos and clarinets twine.
My bassoons are beginning to blossom,
As zithers and mandolins bloom;
My castanets happily clatter;
My kettledrums merrily boom.
The banjos that branch by the bugles
Play counterpoint with a kazoo;
Come visit my glorious garden,
And hear it play music for you.
Alrighty, back to writing I go.
