I woke up more worn out than I'd gone to bed, and it's all Spiderman's fault.
[I have no idea what led to me dreaming up Spiderman singing "Don't Rain on My Parade" and other showtunes as some sort of event for Cooksey, but there you go.]
If you stand in my bedroom at the exact right time of day, there's a small patch of sunlight - about two inches or so - where the light creaks in between the blinds and curtains. I like to stand with my big toes together, grasping all the light I can before it shifts out of focus for another day.
Meanwhile, four stuffed bags of clothing, etc. just left my apartment for Goodwill. Hurrah!
Guess who found her very first pair of show blacks (the shirt with the silver snaps that were probably actually a poor choice for backstage-wear! the pants with ALL the pockets and the nifty zipper on the side where the mini flashlight clipped on) while cleaning out closets and had to take a pause.
I need to pick up a hope chest, because I think that's precisely where you store clothing that you aren't planning on wearing again but emotionally cannot bear to part from. Though I think other people use them for wedding dresses and baby clothes, while I'd currently be housing my all-time favorite blue jeans and the capris I remember wearing on my first day as a theatre major and summerstock employee.