Six hours today and we have 8 numbers to be read through on Saturday. We're printing out an original set of parts as she gave them to us riddled with errors and some major editorial problems. If the editrix gets uppity, I'm going to have the orchestra read the parts. I look forward to her face when she hears the trumpets playing the melody in a different key from everybody else.
Poor Josh, who's stuck with correcting the errors, had a meltdown at 5 pm, and I understand the stress he's running under.
I don't miss working in the theatre area on matinee days at all: a packed bus, an obnoxious kid who proved once again that kids in comas cause no problems and whose nanny should have put her in check. I thought if she didn't stop yelling to her baby brother "hello, hello, hello . . ." over and over for at least 1o minutes straight I would pay the driver good money to run over her.
And now I'm home.