February 1 - Pancaked Mind

I waited at an electric supply store. The man with the sincerely feathered haircut had gone to check on the order I was picking up for a Mag Mile client. Time was ticking. He came back empty handed, theoretically shrugging.
I called my boss, who called the client, who called the electric supply store. I pretended to browse the astounding array of light fixtures. It was busy for 10:30am.
A nice, cricket-looking lady came from the back. They had found the order. My boss called to tell me that the electric supply store had just "fucken" found the "fucken" order.

At the register it was discovered that the client still owed $10.85. I called my boss, who called the client, who called the man in front of me with the sincerely feathered haircut. He transferred the call to the cricket-looking lady. My boss called to "fucken" tell me the "fucken" client had paid the "fucken" $10.85 over the "fucken" phone that morning. Meanwhile, the cricket-looking lady discovered this same news on the computer. The man with the sincerely feathered hair sighed and handed me a box of light bulbs.


It was 10:45am.
I had to be in Old Town at Second City by noon.
I was on the northwest side.
I had to deliver a binder of Toys 'R' Us statistics to a barefoot woman in Ravenswood, give the box of light bulbs to a biker at the Playboy building, pick up a miserable daily mail run in Lincoln Park, and deliver it around Paulina and Wrightwood.

My bike was in the van. After I dropped off the mail I found a place to park on Wrightwood and rode to rehearsal. Somehow I made it there by 11:51. Enough time to wash down my sandwich and carrots with yesterday's cold thermos coffee.

Rehearsal went well. We are fine tuning and cutting. It requires use of the brain.
Right now my brain is a pancake slathered in five different syrups.
I feel an information coma coming on.

At 4pm, while receiving more information on my email machine, the director informed me that the band could leave early.
"Oh. Cool. Cuz I hafta teach tonight anyway. So..."
That is what leaked out of my head instead of "thank you."

I rode my bike to my van, and went home to prepare for my class at 6:30pm.

I think I am a decent improv teacher. I think my students learn and have fun at the same time.
However, I am a sloppy teacher. I stumble over words a lot, which includes stammering. I openly admit my errors while teaching, saying things like, "Oh, I should have done this or that..." And in the six years I have been doing this, I am still very uncomfortable being an authority on the subject.

Nonetheless, today's class was fun. We played with styles and periods, working with references you don't know, and bad suggestions. The class had a great energy and shook me out of my boring state of exhaustion.

Verdict: Win

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