small quandaries

[fictional]

have just received e-mail from the lovely artistic director of our theatre company - asking if i'll be in nyc this week, and if i'd come in and be on book for the solo play that she's doing.
three days, five hours a day.
i'm in two minds.
of course, it's fun, and i'd like to help out, and twould be constructive i've no doubt. and it'd be fun working in the theat-ah, dah-ling, in new york, no less. always a small dream of mine.
silly to be so concerned with place, but there it is.
but -of course there's a but-
i don't particularly want to go to work on my vacation.
not even one little bit.
and i've got a sneaking suspicion there's no money involved either.
well, i shall give it some thought.

d. arrives tomorrow for a few hours before catching his plane.
i'm hoping all goes well.
my father heard the news, and retreated into his bedroom, sulking and playing free cell furiously and endlessly. he's not got a word to throw to anyone.
he's such a madman, and such a child.
heaven grant me patience!

i have been on a steady diet of l.m. montgomery and louisa may alcott ever since i came home. i think it's beginning to show.